Deciding Destiny
by Haley Teague
Summary: *COMPLETE!* One fine morning Buffy and Cordy (S7/4) wake up in a different time and place. Where are they? When are they? More importantly, how do they get home? Although there won't be tons of lovin', the pairings will be A/C and B/S. X-over w/ AtS.
1. One Fine Morning

Title:     Deciding Destiny

Author:  Haley Teague – haleyteague@hotmail.com

Rating:  PG-13 (Nothing you wouldn't see on the shows.)

Setting/Spoilers:  Set following "Him" on Buffy, 7.06, and "Rain of Fire" on Angel, 4.07.  

Disclaimer:  If tomorrow morning I wake up in Joss Whedon's body, then I shall charge you all enormous amounts of money to read the genius that is me.  Until that happens, though, I'll have to suffer though not making any profit whatsoever from my genius.

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Deciding Destiny 

Chapter One:  One Fine Morning

            "What do you mean he's not the one?"  Lilah's tone was dangerous and low, her words clipped and steady, as she advanced on the trembling man – minion – in front of her.  "You mean to tell me that after all the time, pain, and effort I've put into this project, it's not even him?"

            "Our psy-psychics are sh-sh-showing that there is another," the man stuttered, terrified of the power the imposing woman in front of him commanded.

            "Who is it?" the female lawyer demanded.

            The man offered a trembling hand holding a manila folder out in response.  Lilah grabbed it from him and waved her hand in dismissal.  The man quickly turned and practically ran from the room, tripping on over his own feet in his effort to get away from Lilah before she decided the information in the report was his fault and punished him accordingly.

            Lilah quickly scanned the report and then stared out her window, running possibility scenarios in her mind.  Her eyes failed to see the scorched buildings of the darkened city, left over from the blazing rain that had ceased falling scarcely an hour before.  The glass of her office windows reflected back the calculating grin that formed on her lips as she lit upon the perfect plan.  The smile grew unbelievably wider as another thought popped up.  Instead of the warmth one might expect to see in the brunette's eyes accompanying the large grin, the brown orbs glittered with a cold satisfaction, contorting the smile from humor to wickedness.  Not only would she be able to kill two birds with one stone, Lilah was now going to get some personal vengeance on the company's dime.

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            Buffy swam towards consciousness, feeling lazy and utterly content.  As she lay in bed, her eyes remained closed as she savored the feeling of awaking without an alarm clock.  _Ah, Saturday mornings!  How I love you!_ she thought, content to leave the world waiting a few more minutes.  A chill passed though her and she rolled to her side, pulling the covers up a little higher and preparing to snuggle down into them some more.

            Her plan was halted when she realized she was not alone in bed.  She froze, her mind scrambling to remember any number of reasons why someone was sharing her bed.  _Maybe Dawn had a bad dream.  Or Willow and I stayed up late talking and both fell asleep here.  Or…_  The list of possibilities quickly trailed off though and a sinking sensation grew in the pit of her stomach as she realized the body she was now laying next to was cold.  

_Well, either I'm in bed with a dead body or a vampire.  And how bad is it that I'm hoping for the dead body?_ she wondered wryly.  Her mind quickly jumped to a conclusion that she didn't like and she kept her eyes closed, feigning sleep as she wracked her brain, trying to remember what could have led her to this situation, all the while chanting in the back of her mind _Please don't let it be Spike.  Please don't let it be Spike._  When the only thing Buffy could remember from the night before was going to bed – alone – after a routine patrol, she slowly opened her eyes, wondering if she really would prefer to find an unknown corpse over Spike next to her.

What she saw, made the Slayer scream and jump out of the bed, scrambling backwards.

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            Cordy woke to a scream and felt whoever had been cuddled up next to her scramble away.  The previous night came rushing back to her.  _Oh, god, Connor!_ she thought, swiftly sitting up in bed, clutching the blankets to her chest as she tried to assess what was going on.  Her automatic action halted though, when she realized that her hand held the top of the blankets not against bare skin, but a stiff, laced up bodice which accentuated her somewhat diminished cleavage.  _Hey!  What happened to my bo—_the thought was cut off as she remembered the scream which had awoken her.  She whipped her head up to look at the screamer, her eyes growing wide and her blood running cold as she saw who she'd been sleeping next to.  The dark haired vampire looked back at her, seemingly in just as much shock as she was.

            "Drusilla," Cordy breathed almost silently, as she scrambled backwards out of the bed, leaving the piece of furniture between herself and the crazy vampiress.  Cordy's hand quickly went to her throat, feeling for fresh puncture wounds.  While relieved to find none, she was also confused – Why would Drusilla not kill her when she had the chance?

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            Buffy watched as Darla scrambled out the other side of the bed and took a defensive posture.  A million questions ran though the Slayer's mind as she tried to assimilate the situation.  She'd woken up in a strange bed in a strange room next to a dead – of the dusty variety – vampire.  Not to mention she was wearing a dark, lacy dress.  _Hmm . . ._ she thought, glancing down at it before quickly returning her gaze to Darla, _this looks just like the type of dress always worn by – _

            "Drusilla," the blonde vampiress breathed out, interrupting Buffy's thought.  The Slayer swung her head around quickly, trying to ascertain if the dark-haired vampire was behind her.  Seeing nothing, and sensing no one else, she refocused her attention on Darla.

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            As Cordy watched, the psychotic beauty glanced quickly over her shoulder and finding no one, returned her wary gaze to the other woman.  The bedroom door opened, and both women glanced between it and each other, neither content to let the other out of her sight.  Both relaxed when they saw who stood in the doorway.

            "What's all the commotion about?" the dark haired, hulking vampire demanded in a light Irish brogue.  

            Buffy felt her blood run cold as a certain awareness came over her that the figure in the doorway wasn't here to help her.  He wasn't Angel, as she'd first assumed.

            Across the bed, Cordy felt her hopes rise and sink in one fell swoop.  Although she wasn't sure how she knew, she was certain of what she knew.  The third person in the room wasn't her friendly neighborhood man-pire, Angel.

            He was Angelus.

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A/N:  So, did you like?  Did you follow?  Would you like more?  Any suggestions for the summary without giving away too much?


	2. If I'm Here

Chapter Two:  If I'm here . . .

Dawn slowly pushed open the door to Buffy's room.  Glancing at her sleeping sister, the teen silently snuck across the room to the closet.  Pulling it open and blessing Buffy's habit of oiling the door, which had started when slaying was still a secret and Buffy needed to put away her weapons at night without waking up their mother with squeaky doors, Dawn bent over and scanned the closet floor for the pair of brown leather boots that were the subject of her quest.  Spotting them in the far back of the closet, Dawn leaned over and reached for them.  Unfortunately, the boots were farther back than Dawn thought.  She leaned too far forward and, in an effort to keep herself from falling, grabbed onto clothing hanging in the closet on her way down.  Regrettably, Buffy's packed closet meant that the wooden hanger bar was already supporting more weight than it was meant to.  The addition of Dawn's slight weight was more than the poor bar could bear and it snapped in half.  Dawn and the entire hanging contents of Buffy's closet collapsed in a noisy heap, accompanied by Dawn's shriek of surprise.

            The teen froze, and then sheepishly dug her way out of the mountain of clothes, fully expecting her sister to be glaring at her from the bed.  Instead, Dawn's carefully arranged expression of innocence met her sister's still sleeping form.  _That's odd_, the teen thought.  Buffy usually slept lightly, a feature of being a warrior.  Dawn's brow furrowed in concern as she realized that not only had Buffy not woken up, she hadn't even moved.  Crawling the rest of the way out of the avalanche of clothing, Dawn crossed the room to her sister's bed calling her name.

            "Buffy?" Dawn leaned over and shook Buffy's shoulder, pulling slightly, and causing the blonde to roll over on her back.  However, the Slayer still remained asleep.  Dawn grew more worried as she started to shake the other girl harder, still receiving no reaction.  Turning, she bolted to the door and yelled out into the hall. 

            "Willow!"****

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            "Darla?  Dru?"  Angelus looked between the two, taking in their defensive postures.  "What's going on?"

            Buffy was the first to put the pieces together in her head.  The weird dress she was wearing; the fact that Darla had said "Drusilla" earlier, even though there was no one else in the room, and Angel – no, Angelus had just addressed Darla and Drusilla.  Somehow she had woken up in Drusilla's body.

            Taking in the fireplace along one wall cheerily blazing, the old-fashioned atmosphere and furniture of the room, and the clothing the other two vampires were wearing, as well as the presence of one dead and one un-cursed vampire, Buffy concluded that not only was she in Drusilla's body, but she was in Drusilla's body sometime in the past.  

            _Oh, God.  I'm a vampire._

_            Oh, God.  I'm Drusilla._

Buffy felt almost hysterical laughter welling up inside of her.  She had been so worried when she awoke and found herself next to a cold body that she'd done something stupid.  That she'd given into lust and cruelly used the vampire that was in love with her, the vampire that had gotten a soul for her, yet again.  But no.  She'd just woken up as his crazy ex.  Even better, though, was the fact that she'd woken up next to her first love's dead, bitchy, and, oh yes, dead, sire and said first love, version un-souled 1.0.  As if the un-souled sequel she'd been treated to a few years back wasn't enough.  Was that the legacy of loving her?  Vampires either gain or lose a soul; humans just try to get turned into vampires?

            All of these internal ramblings passed though Buffy's mind in the space of a few seconds.  She realized that Angelus was still waiting for an answer – Darla had not yet spoken.  She wracked her mind for a response.  _What would Dru say?_ Buffy thought frantically, taking time out only to remark to herself, _And there's something I never thought I'd say._  Finally she took a deep breath, and reminding herself that she was crazy and British, she spoke, in a passable accent.

            "I had a bad dream, Daddy.  All sorts of scary . . ." Buffy paused, internally wincing at the endearment of _Daddy_ and desperately trying to think of a word to complete the sentence.  "…frogs," she finished weakly.  _Frogs?  What the hell?_ she admonished herself before explaining in what she hoped was a perfectly logical tone.  "They wanted my dollies.  They're mine.  They can't have them."

            Angelus snorted and rolled his eyes, turning his attention away from his crazy childe.  Buffy almost let her shoulders slump in relief, before catching herself.  Apparently her Drusilla impression was close enough that she was safe for now.

            As Angelus moved across the room to sit in a chair by the fire, Buffy realized that she needed to find out exactly when she was in order to judge how much leeway she had in her impression.  Perhaps Drusilla wasn't that old and the other two just weren't used to her yet.  Buffy realized that she hadn't seen Spike, nor was there evidence of another person sharing this room with them.  That didn't mean, of course, that he wasn't there, but the chances were good that she was sometime before he'd joined the group.  Buffy sighed internally, wishing she'd paid more attention to Spike and Angel's pasts.  She knew Drusilla was older than the bleached-blond, but not by much.  _Twenty, maybe fifty years at most.  So, this is likely sometime mid-to late 1800's_, she concluded.  _Well, not that it matters all that much, I guess, since I don't know when Spike was turned exactly.  Late 1800's._  Buffy mentally chided herself for not knowing.  _I can't believe I was sleeping with him and I don't know how old he is!_

            "Go back to bed, Dru," Angelus commanded, and, having no other plan, Buffy obeyed.

            _First things first,_ she thought as she lay down on the bed.  _Don't blow my cover and find a way out of here!_

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            _Frogs?  What the hell?_ Cordy thought uncharitably as mentally unbalanced vampiress explained why she'd jumped from the bed shrieking.  A shiver passed though the seer and she unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself, still trying to put the pieces together.  _Let's see, I woke up next to Drusilla.  And thank God we were both clothed!  We're wearing these funky old dresses, in some room that looks like a movie set, and neither Angel or Dru acted like it was odd to see me.  And wait, is Angel taller?_  She cocked her head to the side, studying her friend.  _Or am I shorter?_

Remembering her earlier consternation with her reduced cleavage, Cordy looked down at herself, taking in the fancy and obviously expensive and old dress she wore.  As she looked, a strand of long, blonde hair fell forward.  The young woman pushed it behind her ear.  As she lowered her hand, she froze, realizing that while her hair was currently blonde, it wasn't _that_ blonde.  Nor was it nearly so long.  She pulled the hair back out from behind her ear and studied it.  She looked around for a mirror.  Seeing one hanging on the wall behind Drusilla, Cordy moved to the side so she could see herself in it.  However, the mirror remained empty, reflecting neither Drusilla nor herself.  All of a sudden the pieces clicked into place and Cordy realized with horror whose body she had woken up in.

            _It's some kind of punishment!  People get to use drunkenness all the time as an excuse for poor sex choices.  Why can't I use impending apocalypse?  I make one bad decision – _"Impregnated with demon spawn" the little voice in the back of her mind interjected – _okay, two bad choices and what? And, oh God, what if I'm pregnant?  Who cares if I'm pregnant?  I'm DARLA!   Just because I slept with a boy who, had he not grown up in a hell dimension, very likely would have been like my own son, I get transported though time to be his mother?  _

Desperate laughter bubbled up inside Cordy and she franticly fought to keep it down. _Maybe I died, and this is my punishment.  To spend eternity with the bastard half of the man I love, while playing the part of the wicked bitch of the west!  _

            She shivered again, this time not from cold, but from horror.  Angelus caught the movement as Drusilla climbed back into the large bed and patted his thigh.

            "Come o're here by the fire, Darla.  I'm sure we can get you warmed up."

            The leer that accompanied his remark made Cordelia want to shudder.  _Oh, God, what do I do?_ she thought anxiously.  _Darla, I'm Darla.  I can do this._  She nearly sighed with relief as the answer came to her.  _Bitchy.  I can do bitchy._

**☼    ☼    ☼**__

As morning dawned on the other side of the dark drapes protecting the three vampires, after Angelus had crawled in between the two women on the bed and each had uneasily curled up next to one side of him, the same thought crossed both women's minds.  

_If I'm here, is she in my body?_

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            Connor became instantly alert as he awoke from sleep.  His senses screamed _Vampire!_ and he sprang from the bed, instinctively facing the vampire in the room.  

            When Angel made no threatening move, only glared, Connor reached behind him and pulled the top blanket off the bed, wrapping it around his waist, being careful to keep himself between his father and the still sleeping Cordelia.  

            "Cordy," he whispered loudly, shaking the mattress to wake the seer, his eyes never leaving the glowering vampire.  When the woman failed to respond, he shook the mattress harder, calling her name again.

            "I'm not going to attack you."  Angel spoke for the first time, his voice tight and hard, barely reassuring.

            Connor regarded him warily, his look clearly saying he didn't fully believe his father's claim.  However, the youth did back around the bed, so he could reach Cordy, while still facing his father – a compromise between keeping Angel in his visual range and remaining between the angry vampire and Cordelia.  When he reached the other side, Connor once again shook the woman.

            "Cordy, come on, wake up."

            When Connor still received no response, Angel started to move forward, towards the bed.  A harsh glare from Connor stopped him in his tracks.

            Connor shook the seer again, roughly, and when she still failed to respond, he looked up at his father, appearing the inexperienced youth that he was.  "What's wrong?  Why isn't she waking up?  We didn't . . . I didn't . . ."

            "I know what you did," Angel cut him off, his voice nearly emotionless from the control he was exerting over it.  When Connor looked up at him defiantly, the vampire admitted, "I don't know why she isn't waking up."

            Connor let his gaze fall completely away from his father, an unspoken offering for a truce while Cordelia was in trouble.  Angel approached the bed and placed a hand on Cordelia's forehead.  

Feeling no fever, and noting that her pulse sounded strong, Angel hesitated before saying gruffly, "Get her dressed.  We'll take her to the hotel."

For once, his son didn't argue.

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A/N:  Thanks for the encouraging feedback, folks!  Anne Rose, Michelle, Leahalexis, Rachel, Racharoni, Kaylyn, and Mr./Ms. No Name – you guys made my day!  If there are any ideas that just jump out at you that you'd like to see here, let me know.  No promises, b/c I have quite a few ideas of my own as to what's going to happen, but I'd love to hear from you!


	3. The Evening After

Chapter 3:  The Evening After

            Buffy awoke for the second time in ten hours.  While she'd been psychologically well rested, Drusilla had obviously been worn out because, despite her best efforts, the Slayer had fallen asleep that morning.  This time waking, however, she became instantly aware of her surroundings, though she remained still and silent, feigning sleep.  _And how weird is it not to breath?_  

Extending her new vampire senses, which differed only slightly from her Slayer senses, she could tell that the other two vampires were still in the room; most likely, since she didn't hear anything, they were still asleep in the bed with her.  _Of all the places I never want to admit I woke up . . ._ she thought ruefully of sharing a bed with Angelus and Darla, even as innocent as it had been – as innocent as anything involving Angelus and Darla could be.  _Wait till Xander hears about this!_

            A gnawing ache in her stomach made itself know to the girl, and she realized with growing horror that waking up with Angelus' arm around her was the least of her worries.  She was hungry.  

She was very hungry.  

_Bloodlust.  Damn._

As Buffy contemplated her options, the most important of which she decided was getting away from the two older vampires so that she could find a butcher shop, Angelus stirred next to her, retracting his arm from around his dark-haired childe and rolling over to face his blonde sire.

            Buffy chanced opening her eyes just enough that she could peer out from under her – Drusilla's – lashes.  Between what she could see, which wasn't much, and what she could hear, which, unfortunately, was too much, Angelus was feeling…libidinous.  

_Oh, no, no, no!_  Buffy thought frantically, realizing that the two older vampires were going to have sex right next to her.

            Although she and Angel had never spoken about it directly, Buffy had gathered from a few offhand comments from Spike and various researching that evil Angel – Angelus – was a horndog of the type that would put every man who'd ever fancied himself a playboy to shame.  

_I guess it could be worse_, she decided, resigning herself to block out what she could of the other two's activities.  _He could expect the same from me._

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            Cordy awoke to feel someone pawing at her.  

            "Darla," a low, masculine voice said suggestively.  "Wake up, darlin'"

            As the weight of another body shifted partially over hers, Cordelia's eyes flew open, and she tired to remember where she was and what was going on.  Seeing the face of her best friend twisted in a leering, lewd manner directly over hers and realizing it was his weight she felt pressing her down into the mattress, she almost panicked.  

However, as she opened her mouth to tell Angel off, a little bell rang in her head, reminding her that there was something she wasn't remembering, something that would make what she was about to say a very bad idea.  She clamped her mouth closed as she remembered the events of the previous evening – er, morning.  

_Well, crap!_ the seer thought.  _This is a fine mess!_  Cordy held no illusions that Darla and Angelus had had a very active sex life when they were together.  Not to mention the apparently reactivation of said sex life during Angel's "beige" period.  _What do I do?  I can't have sex with him, but I can't exactly hear Darla saying, "Not tonight, honey.  I have a headache."  Crap, crap, crap.  _

Suddenly, she remembered.  _Drusilla!_  From what she remembered about Angelus' reign of terror in Sunnydale, he and Dru had been at each other like Fred on tacos – and really, now that she thought about it, that was kind of a gross analogy.  But that didn't make it any less true.  

            Dialing up her inner bitch, Cordy shoved Angelus off her and sneered, "I'm really not in the mood, dear."  She placed extra emphasis on the "dear" making what would be an endearment between normal people, something between an insult and a reminder of her position as elder in the relationship.

            Angelus appeared slightly surprised for a second before recovering and pouting at the woman.  Internally, Cordy rolled her eyes.  _The big, evil Angelus pouts.  Who would have thought?  Wait till I get home.  He's never going to hear the end of this!_

            To the other vampire, however, her expression remained cold and unmoving.  Cordy kept her voice carefully disinterested, as if she didn't think for even a moment that Angelus might disobey her.  "If you're so worked up, why don't you play with Dru?"

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            _What?!?_ Buffy almost jumped out of the bed when she heard Darla rebuke Angelus and suggest he "play" with her instead.  _No, no, no!  I can't have sex with him!  But how am I going to get out of it?  I'm pretty sure that while he'll take it from Darla, "NO" won't suffice for Drusilla._  As the thoughts raced though her mind and she remained frozen with indecision, Angelus turned and was already hovering over her.  

            Although Angelus had yet to make any really threatening moves, Buffy was suddenly overwhelmed by memories of another vampire who had wanted sex from her that she wasn't willing to give.  Without thinking about her reaction, or that it might blow her cover, she lashed out.  

            Angelus abruptly found himself curled on the floor past the foot of the bed, his jaw aching from the right hook Drusilla had hit him with, his groin throbbing from the swift, powerful knee it had received, and his stomach slightly painful as an afterthought from the foot the younger vampire had used to kick him off of her.

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            Cordelia watched the exchange, her eyes wide.  She was hit was a trainload of remorse for suggesting Angelus turn to Drusilla.  After all, during her time in the higher realms, she'd seen what he'd done.  She'd experienced it.  And Drusilla's torment had been some of the worst.  She knew that Angelus had rapped the girl, brutally and horribly.  Seeing her reaction, Cordy couldn't believe she'd been so thoughtless.

            Angelus rose from the floor, his eyes clouded with rage.  Cordelia shivered at the sight and knew that whatever punishment he was planning for Drusilla was going to be far worse than his "affections" would have been.  While Angelus was capable of great evil, she'd sensed that he'd been in a rather playful mood earlier.  More than likely, he wouldn't have hurt Drusilla.  

_And that matters how?_ an outraged voice in the back of Cordy's mind demanded.  _You're right,_ the woman conceded.  A fresh wave of guilt swept over Cordy for even thinking such a thing and she grew determined.  _I have to protect her._

            Forcing a mirth she didn't feel, Cordy let loose a loud and boisterous laugh.  "Oh, leave the poor girl be, Angelus," she said.  "I haven't been this amused in quite a while."

            "She needs to be reminded who's got the power in this relationship," Angelus nearly growled.  

            "Oh, I think she knows who holds the power in this family," Cordy said meaningfully, hoping it was enough to remind the angered vampire that she, or rather Darla, could pull rank if she wanted to.

            Seeing Angelus wavering, Cordy scooted across the bed so that she could lay her arm across Drusilla, claiming the younger vampire under her protection.              

"Why don't you go kill something?" she asked.  "Some of us need to finish getting our beauty sleep."  Cordy closed her eyes and laid her head down, effectively dismissing Angelus.  

It was only after the door slammed shut behind him that the seer realized the aggression therapy that her Angel usually engaged in involved only killing demons.  This Angel wasn't likely to be as discriminating.

A fresh wave of guilt assaulted the seer.  _Which is worse?_ she wondered.  _Allowing him to hurt Drusilla or setting him loose on an unsuspecting population?  _

_Or sleeping with him yourself and avoiding the other two?_

_Crap._

**☼    ☼    ☼**

Buffy lay still, fighting to keep the tears from breaking through her closed eyelids.  She'd known as soon as Angelus hit the floor that she was in for a fight.  Of course, she'd prefer he hit her any day to the other.

She was surprised when, as soon as Angelus' footsteps faded away down the hallway, Darla retracted her arm and rolled away from her.  Buffy had feared for a moment that she'd fought off Angelus, only to be left with Darla.  Not that there was anything wrong with that sort of thing, if you were into it.  But she wasn't.  And it was Darla.  Eww.

"Thank you," the Slayer whispered into the air, not turning to look at the elder vampire, but feeling a need to express her gratitude.  

"You're welcome," Darla replied softly, to Buffy's surprise.  Certainly in everything she'd ever heard about her, Darla had been a Grade-A Bitch, but Buffy actually knew very little of the relationship between Darla and Drusilla.  Perhaps it was more sisterly and protective than she'd first thought.

As Buffy watched, Darla rose from the bed and began ruffling through the closet, looking for a clean dress.  Selecting one, she pulled it out of the closest and glanced around before shrugging.  She quickly changed, leaving the layers upon layers of petticoats underneath the current dress in place before slipping on the new one.

"I'm going out," she announced.  Before Buffy could wonder if she was meant to accompany Darla, the blonde continued.  "You can't come with me, but I'd suggest you go somewhere and don't come back until dawn.  I'll be back then, but if I were you, I wouldn't want to be alone with tall, dark, and pissed-off if he comes back."

Buffy only nodded, not sure of how to respond to this continued kindness from Darla, nor the sarcastic, almost caustic reference to Angelus.

The blonde rooted through a pile of cloaks that lay over a chair until she found a small, drawstring purse.  Taking it and grabbing the woman's cloak on top of the pile, she quickly left the room.

Buffy waited until Darla's footfalls had faded before springing from the bed and moving to the closet.  She had internally winced when Darla had taken the purse.  Money was something she hadn't even considered.  _Maybe Dru has one too,_ she thought, not really expecting it to be true.  After all, if Dru lived with her she'd hardly allow the nutty vampire to control her own finances.

Having changed into a fresh dress, Buffy set to searching the room for other money or something she could sell or trade.  _Let's see, what would a butcher trade me for?  Maybe a nice cleaver.  Can't believe there isn't one of those just lying around here! _she thought sardonically.Finding nothing, Buffy resolved herself to the possibility of having to steal blood to survive.  _Well, better than killing, I guess._  

Taking the other feminine cloak from the pile, Buffy headed out the door and into the night.

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A/N:  Yay for reviews!  Thanks especially to Anne Rose, Lora Darcy, North Star, Joyce, Cindy, Rori, and of course, my good friend Winter for your kind and encouraging reviews.  I hope this chapter wasn't too much of a downer.  The next couple chapters are more with the funny and less with the serious.


	4. The First Night Cordy

Chapter Four:  The First Night – Cordy

            Cordelia stepped out the front door of the inn and was met by a gray, overcast sky.  Somehow she knew that it wasn't truly night yet; on the other side of the thick cloud cover the sun still shown in the sky.  The inherent knowledge – the fact that she just _knew_ – was what really drove home her vampire status for the first time.  She'd known intellectually that since she was residing in Darla's body, she must have all the physical attributes that went along with it.  But that knowledge hadn't really registered with the young woman.  

            _Hey, I wonder if I can go all grr,_ she thought before quickly dismissing the prospect in favor of the task at hand.  _Information first.  Play later._

            Cordy decided her first task was to determine when and where she was.  She looked around, hoping to spot a newspaper stand or something.  Seeing nothing to help her, she decided she was going to have to ask someone.

            A young, twenty-something, well-to-do looking man was walking down the street towards her, and putting on what she hoped was a friendly smile, with just a touch of "poor, helpless female," she stepped into his path.  

            "Excuse me sir," she said, laughing lightly in a self-deprecating manner.  "I seem to have forgotten the date."

            The man stopped and smiled brightly at the woman in front of him.  It was obvious she was wealthy and he looked around, confused that she was out without an escort.

            "It's the sixteenth, miss," he replied.

"The sixteenth?"

"Of September," the dark-haired man confirmed, before continuing.  "Are you alone? May I walk you to your destination?"

            Cordelia barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  Stupid man; he deserved to get eaten.  If she was really Darla, he'd never know what hit him.  

"No thank you, kind sir," she said, hoping she wasn't laying it on too thick.  "I'm just around the corner from my destination."  She purposefully stepped around him and continued on her way.  Well, at least she'd learned the day and month.  Not the most helpful information, but it was a start.  And, the man had spoken with a British accent, so she was somewhere British.

Okay, British – what do I know that's British?  Well, there's Wesley, and Giles.  I suppose I could try to find some of their ancestors.  Oh!  The Watchers Council!  They can help me!  Even as she thought it, Cordelia felt the urge to smack herself in the forehead.  You're Darla, remember?  What are you going to do?  Walk right up to Council headquarters and ask for asylum?  They'd stake you before you could say "White Hat"! 

Cordelia was so deeply engrossed in berating herself, that she didn't hear the commotion on the street at first.  Cries and shouts echoed up and down the roadway and when the noise finally pierced her consciousness, she looked up in time to see an empty carriage being drug by a team of run away horses, galloping straight towards her.  

Before Cordy could decide how to react, someone grabbed her from the side, pulling her out of the way of the horses, saving her from being trampled.  Cordelia and her rescuer went down in a heap on the cobblestones, the horses' hooves missing them by inches.  As the carriage continued on down the street, Cordy sat up, turning to look at who had saved her.

The gentleman she'd stopped and asked for the date lay on the street next to her.  He had landed face first, cracking his head against the stone.  A small cut on his forehead dripped blood.  He blinked, and sat up slowly.  Apparently the action didn't agree with him, because he stopped moving and closed his eyes, trying to regain his equilibrium.  

Oddly, Cordy found her attention drawn to the cut on his head.  It fascinated her and she couldn't figure out why.  It wasn't a particularly large or unusual cut.  She'd certainly seen worse on the guys when they came back from a job.  Hell, she'd had worse herself.  So what was it about it . . .

Cordy's focus was distracted as she heard an odd crunching noise.  She knew that noise – it was the sound a vampire made when it went into game face!  She started to discreetly look around to see if she could spot the threat.  However, before she could turn very far, she saw a young boy standing across the street watching her.  His eyes had grown wide with fear.  Cordy's brow furrowed with confusion.  Or it would have, had it not already been transfigured by her own vamp face.  The realization that the sound she had heard came from her, made Cordelia's own eyes grow wide.  She couldn't let anyone see her like this! 

She quickly lowered her head into her lap, hoping that between her full skirt and her long hair, she could hide her face until she got it under control.  Taking a few deep breaths, the seer practiced some of the meditation techniques she'd learned to deal with the pain her visions used to cause.  She was rewarded when she heard the sound of her facial bones shifting back into the smooth planes of Darla's human face.  She quickly double-checked the transformation by lifting a hand to her forehead.  Feeling no bumpies, she then checked her teeth.  They were flat and normal and thankfully human.

_I've got to eat, soon,_ she thought.  She'd been ignoring the ache in her stomach because she didn't yet want to consider how she was going to drink blood.  She knew she would have to, but she hadn't thought it would affect her this much.  Cordy decided to ignore it for now.  She hoped that being aware of it would be enough to keep the game face under control.  

"Are you alright, miss?" the man beside her asked.

"Yes," she replied.  "What a dreadful fright.  I guess I wasn't watching where I was going.  Thank you."

"Certainly, m'lady," the man said.  "Are you quite sure I can't escort you to your destination?  It would be a shame for any more misfortunes to befall such a beautiful woman as yourself."

Cordy smiled politely, internally wishing that someday the man would appreciate the fact that she wasn't really Darla.  "Actually, I'm not feeling so well.  I think I'll just head back to the inn my…husband and I are staying at," she replied.

The man deflated visibly for a moment when Cordelia mentioned her "husband" before quickly recovering and helping her to her feet.  Once she was standing he offered her his arm and said, "Well, we can't have you getting run down by any more horses.  And I certainly couldn't leave a woman who wasn't feeling well to fend for herself."

Cordelia sighed and took his arm, allowing him to walk her back the way she'd come.  _Might as well milk the damsel in distress routine for all that it's worth,_ she thought as they began walking.  After a few steps, she pretended to falter, leaning more heavily on the man.  

"Are you sure you're quite alright?" he asked.  "Perhaps you ought to sit down for a moment."

"I'll be fine," the beautiful blonde stranger assured him.  "I know I asked you before, but I've simply forgotten what with the horses and all.  What is the date, again?"

"The sixteenth of September," he said, patiently, wondering if indeed the woman was 'alright.'

"And the year?" she asked casually.

The man looked at her oddly before responding, "Eighty."

"Of course, silly me," Cordy said, laughing in what she hoped was a 'don't worry, I'm just a dumb, helpless woman' kind of way.

_Let's see.  It's defiantly not 1980.  So, that leaves either 1880 or 1780.  Dru's here, and she wasn't turned until the mid-1800's, so 1880 it is.  1880, why is that familiar?_  Something about the date tickled the back of Cordy's mind.  _It's something in the file_, she decided, referring the file on Angel's past she and Wesley had made for Gunn and had used to acquaint Fred and Lorne with the history of their champion when Darla has shown up last year.  Something significant happened in 1880.  If only she could remember what it was.

**☼    ☼    ☼**

_Stupid horses.  Stupid game face.  Stupid horses, scared by stupid game face_, Buffy thought petulantly as she watched the horses run away down the street, wildly dragging an empty carriage behind them.  

            She had emerged from the inn, intent on finding some dinner.  She was going to look for a butcher shop, but she honestly wasn't sure if one would be open after dark.  Sure, in 21st century America, stores stayed open later than that – even stores in Sunnydale, which was, at best, questionable logic.  But here, she wasn't so sure.  She'd been relieved to find that some internal vampire clock told her it wasn't yet true dusk, and even more relieved to see the thick cloud cover that would hopefully allow her to move around during the day.  Still, Buffy stopped just inside the shadowed door of the inn, sticking her hand out tentatively until it was bathed in what limited daylight there was up to the wrist.  Seeing no smoke, and feeling no pain, she sighed, relieved.  

The clouds, though, didn't guarantee she'd be successful in finding a butcher shop.  Not to mention the fact that she was still penniless and would not only have to find a butcher shop; but she would have to find a butcher shop she could steal from.

            So, she'd allowed herself to acknowledge the fact that she might have to secure blood another way – animals.  When she'd come across the lightly tethered horses, she'd mentally been repulsed by the very idea.  Then the ludicrous picture of Drusilla standing next to a horse, wearing a giant bib, and holding a large knife and fork – one in each hand – had popped into her mind, nearly causing her to laugh out loud.  Apparently, her new body hadn't found the idea so silly though.  She'd promptly shifted into vamp face and the scared the living daylights out of the horses.

            They had reared up, pulling their tether loose from the wooden bar it was looped over and taken off, away from the vampire in front of them.

            _Smart animals.  Stupid, but smart_, Buffy thought ruefully, shaking her head.  She gave them one last look, still careening madly down the street and started walking in the opposite direction.

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            "Two blocks down and left half a block," Cordelia repeated the directions to herself in a mutter.

Cordelia had watched her new friend from behind the edge of a curtain in the inn's front window as he walked down the street after dropping her off.  Thankfully, he had continued in the direction he'd originally been going, opposite the direction she had set out in.  Seeing him turn a corner, she had let the curtain fall back against the glass and turned and gotten directions from a servant girl, who was sweeping the great room.  

Looking up, she saw a sign reading simply "Books" hanging over a shop's entrance.  Mentally crossing her fingers, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.  The interior was warm and cheery, if somewhat musty.  A middle-aged woman perused books on one shelf, while an elderly man arose from a desk and approached Cordelia.  

The smell of aged, leather-bound volumes was reassuring to the young woman.  It reminded her of the hundreds of research sessions she'd been party to, and of the certainty that, no matter how grim things looked, they would live to fight another day.  Of course, those research sessions always featured more players than just her.  _And let's be honest, Cor_, she thought.  _You've never exactly been the big brains of the group._

The young woman sighed, refusing to let her negative thoughts dispel the comforting atmosphere of the bookshop.  As the shop's proprietor reached her, she plastered on her million-dollar smile, or what she hoped was a fair approximation of it – on Darla's face who knew what it looked like.  She thought about trying to see herself in the shop's window before remembering she would cast no reflection.  _Boy, this no mirrors thing is a real bitch!_

"Can I help you find something, miss?" he inquired politely.  He was an older gentleman, balding slightly, with a portly belly filling out his jacket.

"I'm looking for books about …" she trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her request.  _Time travel and body switching spells, got any of those?_ "…that are of an unusual nature," she finished hesitantly.

The old gentleman smiled kindly before asking, "What kind of nature?"

"Oh, I'm not sure, really.  Books about the occult, I guess," she replied, hurrying to explain.  "My husband collects them."  _If I have to put up with him, I might as well use him as an excuse._

The man smiled warmly, trying to ease her discomfort.  He assumed the young woman's unease was due to shopping for books that were of a subject matter unsuitable for a woman of her obviously high station, if her clothing was any judge.  She must be embarrassed her husband has such an unseemly hobby.

"I don't have a lot of that type of volume.  What I do have is over on that shelf," he said.  Gesturing to where the woman was standing along one wall, the man continued, "However, that's Mrs. Devlin.  She and her husband own a small shop a few blocks over, and they carry quite a bit of unusual merchandise.  If I don't have something that suits you, she very well might."  Taking Cordy's arm, he said, "Let me introduce you."

Allowing the man to lead her across the room, Cordelia smiled politely at the woman as she was introduced.

"Cor . . ." the seer paused in offering her own name, before finally settling on a solution.  "Darla Corr."  

As Cordelia quickly perused the limited offerings looking for anything that might help, she failed to notice Mrs. Devlin's repeated glances at her.  The woman hadn't reacted upon seeing Cordelia, but after the introductions, she couldn't stop stealing glances at the stunning blonde.  

Had Cordelia been paying more attention to the woman and less to the useless books in front of her, she would have seen the woman's eyes grow wide as recognition hit her.  

"I'm about ready to head back to my shop, dear," the woman said.  "If you haven't found anything, perhaps you would care to walk with me.  You could tell me more about what type of book you're looking for."

It was a gamble, the woman knew, to invite such a well-known and dangerous vampire as the infamous Darla to walk with her.  However, it was a risk she had to take, and she certainly couldn't leave the violent creature alone with poor old Mr. Brooks.  _I should be safe enough_, Mrs. Devlin decided,_ as long as I stick to the populated areas and make sure to get myself within reach of the weapons when we get to the shop.  She seems to be looking for something specific.  That doesn't mean she won't kill you all the same,_ a little voice reminded her.  _I know, but how can I pass this opportunity up?_

Cordelia smiled at the kindly woman next to her.  How nice of her to be so friendly.  Hopefully, her collection would be more helpful.  The books the old man carried had proven useless.  Mostly they were basic histories or fanciful exaggeration from what she'd seen.  No actual spell books or specialized histories among the bunch.

Thanking the old man for his time, Cordelia accompanied Mrs. Devlin out the door of the shop.

To be continued in:  "Chapter Five:  The First Night – Buffy"

**☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼**

A/N:  Happy New Year everyone!  Thanks to everyone who has been reading, even if you haven't been reviewing (Which, I guess, I'm just assuming that folks other than those who review are reading.  Let's not disturb that little fantasy of mine, okay?).  But, special thanks go to all the nice reviewers who made my day since my last posting:  Ilpopi, Dawn, Cindy, Si.Crazy, Anonymous, Rachel, and Lora Darcy.  You guys are wonderful!  I'd forgotten what a narcotic reviews can be!  Yay!

On another note – if you're ever having trouble accessing a new chapter to a story, open the story, and in the address bar, after the story id number add "&chapter=3" (or change the 3 to whatever the number is of the chapter you're trying to access).  Sometimes ff.net gets the stories updated, but then won't let you see the new chapters right away.  This is a nice trick to get around that. 


	5. The First Night Buffy

Chapter Five:  The First Night – Buffy

            Buffy froze in the dark shadows of the alley.  She watched, remaining unmoving, until the middle-aged butcher shrugged his shoulders dismissively at the noise he thought he'd heard and pulled his upper body back into the doorway, letting his shop's rear door close behind him.  

            Buffy released the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and now that she thought about, why was she even breathing?  _Habit, I guess._  She shrugged her shoulders dismissively and turned her gaze to the bucket at her feet and the dark red liquid it contained.  Now that she'd obtained it, _Mission Impossible_ style, the Slayer was faced with the actuality of drinking blood.  She swallowed hard, torn between the aching in her stomach demanding she pick the bucket up and gulp its contents down and the concern she felt over the revulsion she _didn't_ feel at the prospect of acquiescing to her stomach's demands.

            Bending down, the dark-haired beauty picked up the bucket and raised it to her lips.  There she paused, lowering it to chest level again, staring at the smooth, red velvet surface of the blood.

            _Okay, I can do this.  It's just like red kool-aid.  Only more iron-y._  She groaned at the inadvertent pun, then paused to look around for something that could function as a glass.  _Quit stalling,_ she admonished herself, sternly.  _You can do this.  _

            Raising the bucket to her lips, Buffy screwed up Drusilla's face into a fair impression of the "blegh" face the Slayer made after drinking hard alcohol in preparation for the expected flavor of the blood.  However, as soon as she tasted the first sip, all her reservations fled and she quickly drank nearly half the bucket.  Lowering the pail, she licked at her lips without conscious thought, cleaning the last drops of the ruby liquid from them.

            Buffy stood staring into the remaining pool of blood.  She was surprised to find that the revulsion she expected to feel wasn't there.  Actually, the blood had been quite tasty.  That revelation was startling enough to jar the Slayer out of her musings.  She was no longer hungry, but decided she was better off eating as much now as she could; she didn't know when she'd next be able to get away from Angelus and Darla and obtain blood that didn't come from a person.  Buffy briefly debated not returning to the shared room at the inn, but knew with no money, nowhere else to stay, and no knowledge of the obviously different time and place that she found herself in, she had little choice.  _Better the devils you know…_

            Her decision made, Buffy forced herself to finish the blood, even though she no longer hungered for it.  She set the bucket down next to the butcher's door, and left the alley, trying to determine the best place to start looking for answers.  

            The first thought that occurred to Buffy was to find a magic shop and see what kind of resources were there.  She had decided to ask someone on the street, before pausing.  Maybe magic and magic shops weren't yet acceptable.  

_That'd be just my luck.  Transported into the body of a dangerous, deranged vampire in the past, only to be burned at the stake as a witch!_

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            Mrs. Devlin had been unfailing polite and kind.  And, Cordy had known the moment she set foot in the woman's shop that it must serve occult customers.  The various herbs, candles, sands, and other common spell components had given the time traveling seer hope of finding help.

After several minutes of Cordelia skimming the contents of Mrs. Devlin's books and asking the kindly woman vague and round about questions, the seer suddenly looked up, slamming her book shut.

            "Subtlety isn't really my forte," she announced.  "I'm looking for a spell that can detect and identify the presence of other spells."

            Mrs. Devlin looked up from the other side of the counter, her hand having automatically reached for the crucifix hidden there at the abrupt change in the vampire's tone.  She forced herself to relax, but kept her hand on the icon before she smiled reassuringly at the creature.

            "Oh, I have just the thing.  Unfortunately, my husband has the book with him today, and he's visiting across town.  Could you come back tomorrow?"

            Cordy almost jumped up and down at the news.  "Yes, certainly!  Is about this time alright?  I'm afraid I'm all tied up tomorrow during the day, but I should be free in the evening."

            "That will do fine.  Shall we say nine o'clock?"****

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            Having walked for a good half hour without finding any stores or shops that looked remotely helpful, Buffy was becoming frustrated.  She had learned that she was in London and the year was 1880.  In the back of her mind, she had acknowledged that as a last resort, she could approach the Watchers Council, providing she could find it.  However, that was only if all else failed.  She didn't trust them in her own time, when she was the Slayer, supposedly batting for the same team.  Not that she thought they were strictly evil per say; on her more charitable days she allowed that they were just misguided, unwilling to acknowledge the reality of the field she worked in on a daily basis.  They believed very much in their traditions, even when those methods were no longer applicable in day-to-day slaying.  Consequently, she really didn't trust the current Council not to stake first, ask questions never if Drusilla approached them.  And while Buffy thought it possible that the death of Drusilla's body might send her back to her own, she doubted it.  Especially if Drusilla's psyche had taken up residence in Buffy's body.

            She certainly hoped that wasn't the case, although it seemed the most likely.  The very idea of Drusilla waking up in the body of a Slayer in the same house as Dawn and Willow terrified Buffy, but there was nothing she could do about it right now, so she resolved to cross that bridge when she came to it.  Maybe if this spell or whatever it was that had happened to her, involved time travel – _okay, not a big stretch there, Buff!_ – she could get the reversal spell to send her back early enough that Dru would never have the chance to wake up in her body.

            First, Buffy decided, since she hadn't seen a library – did they even exist during this time? – she was going to wait until later on in the evening and try to find a demon bar, or barring that, a human bar with a large demon population.  Ideally, someplace like Willy's where she could at least count on the barman to provide her with information.

            _And boy, could I use a drink!_

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            Cordelia sighed as she stood in line at the butcher's shop, daydreaming about what she was going to do when she got home.  Shopping, lots of shopping.  No therapy like pulling out the old credit cards.

            And, she sure as heck wasn't going to under-appreciate her Angel again.  No, siree.  Even her short time with his evil twin this morning – evening, whatever – had opened her eyes to just how much her Angel had worked to change.  What she hadn't told Angel was that while she'd experienced how much he enjoyed being evil during her time as a higher being, she'd also experienced the massive amounts of guilt he'd been subjected to with the return of his soul and the unending ache of remorse he lived with on a daily basis.  While the former had made her non-corporeal stomach turn, the latter had just about knocked her on her invisible, yet still shapely butt.

            She loved him.

            Truly, madly, deeply, and every other clichéd way she could think of.

            Then why had she done what she did with Connor?

            _Impending apocalypse,_ she repeated stubbornly to herself.  

_And you felt like you deserved it_, _brown eyes,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Lorne's argued in her head.

_            Pfft!  I don't know what you're talking about._

_            Don't "pfft" me, princess,_ the voice chided.  _You were so excited when you finally realized you loved him, And then you had to go play deity.  You come back sans memory and not very trusting, either.  And when you finally remember, you remember it all.  Every last evil deed the big lug committed.  _

_Yeah.  So?_

_You'd come so far only to reach a place where you didn't feel you could be with him,_ the imaginary lounge singer explained gently.  _You felt you deserved someone.  And you do.  Everyone does.  Even formerly evil vampires.  Whether certain young men deserve it from beautiful women who are hopelessly in love with their fathers is another story . . ._

Cordelia shook her head sorrowfully, heedless of the people around her and to the fact that the conversation was taking place in her mind.  _I'm such an idiot!  What am I going to do?_

Imaginary Lorne remained silent, and Cordy was jolted back to the present as she was nudged from behind.  She found that the line in front of her had disappeared and it was her turn.  

            "I'm going to be making blood pudding tomorrow for company," she explained to the man behind the counter, saying a silent thank you to Wesley for introducing her to the disgusting English food one day after she'd wondered aloud why butchers would even sell blood.  "I'd like a large quantity of blood."  

Cordy had long ago given up trying to explain to the various butcher shops she frequented in LA, but that was LA; you could come into the shop covered in blood, and no one would even blink.  She didn't think she'd be so lucky here and wanted to head off any questions before they were asked.  

_You should never explain yourself to others, Cordelia,_ her mother's voice echoed in her head.  _Only people who have something to hide or prove explain themselves.  You are a Chase.  You are above explanations.  _Cordy rolled her eyes.  Somehow she didn't think her mother had been thinking of buying blood in order to survive in the vampire body of your best friend's ex when she said that.

            "Henry," the man behind the counter said to his young assistant, "go see how much blood we got left in the back.."

            While the boy was gone, the butcher explained apologetically, "We had someone break in the back earlier and steal a batch o' it.  Don't rightly know how much we got."

            "How dreadful," Cordy responded, in what she hoped was a sympathetic enough manner.  _Who in their right mind would steal blood?  With my luck, it was probably Drusilla and she'll bring it back to paint the walls of the room or something, _the seer thought derisively.

            Henry returned with a large jug, presumably full of blood, and set it on the counter.

            "That enough for ya, m'am?" the butcher asked.

            "Quite," Cordelia replied, finding it easier and easier to modify her speech so that she didn't stand out too much as the day went on, even with her American accent.  She paid for her purchase, and quickly left, looking for someplace discreet she could drink her dinner.

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            _I wish I had a picture of this!_ Buffy thought, picking up the splintered piece of wood standing in for Mr. Pointy from where it had landed after falling from the dust of the escaping vamp she'd thrown it at. Buffy patrolling though a cemetery wasn't in any way a new event.  However, _Drusilla_ patrolling was an image Buffy found immensely humorous.

The familiar act of slaying had made Buffy feel more like herself than she had since she'd woken up in this wonderland, surrounded by evil vampires.  A new determination came over her and she decided on a change of plan.

            Making her way back to the inn, Buffy made a mental list of what she'd need to take to survive on her own for a couple of days.  She paused outside the door to the room, extending her senses, hoping she wouldn't pick up either of the other two vampires.  _Damn! _she cursed silently.  

Her senses clearly reported one vampire on the other side of the door and one human.  _Well, that's new,_ she thought.  She'd never been able to sense humans before.  But, chances were if she could sense the vampire, they'd be able to sense her.  Darla she had hopes of dealing with again.  If it was Angelus, however… While Buffy was confident of her own ability to take him, she didn't think Dru's body was quite as strong.  Also, she'd seen _Back to the Future_ enough times to know that she needed to be very careful not to change the future.  Killing Angelus would certainly do that.  While it would save more than a few lives, it would also mean that Angel, her Angel, would never exist, likely dooming even more lives.

_It doesn't balance out,_ she reminded herself.  _It's not like one life saved erases one life taken._

_I know.  But sometimes, you have to put the greater good first.  Even if it sucks,_ she added, remembering two fateful days – one when she'd chosen to kill her first love to save the world and another when she'd decided to die herself rather than murder her sister.__

            If she opened the door and came face to face with Angelus, though, and he started anything like what had happened earlier, Buffy very much doubted she could get out of it without killing the vampire or capitulating to his demands.  And even if Darla were there, Buffy doubted the elder vampire would be amused a second time around.  Everything she knew about the vicious blonde said her moods were too mercurial to predict.  As such, Buffy was prepared to run the other way should it be Angelus on the other side of the door.

            Sneaking closer, the Slayer intended to press her ear to the door, to see if she could hear who was on the other side.  However, her caution was unnecessary.  A loud, raucous, distinctly male laugh echoed through the barrier, followed by a high-pitched, female squeal of delight.  

Buffy rolled her eyes.  Since she only sensed one vampire, it couldn't be Darla that Angelus was getting friendly with.  _Good grief!  Turned down by Darla and Dru, and he can't even wait two hours to find someone else!_

Backing away down the hall, Buffy resolved to forgo ransacking the vampires' room.  Instead, she headed out into the night, determined to survive on her own, find a way home, and not screw up the timeline.

_Dru disappearing for a few days can't be that unusual an occurrence,_ she decided.  _Hopefully this won't upset the future too much._  Then, an unsettling thought occurred to the Slayer. _ I can live with not killing Angelus since it means no Angel, but what about the people Dru would have killed, had she been here?  Will it change the future if they live?_

_Doesn't matter,_ she decided quickly, choosing not to ponder the question, as she once more left the inn.  _I'll drink the blood and stay out of the sunlight.  I'll keep the psycho alive.  But I draw the line at killing.  I won't kill anyone!_

**☼    ☼    ☼**__

           "But, but you're one of us!" the large vampire protested incredulously as Buffy threw a hard punch at his stomach.

            "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" she asked as the vamp backed away from her, trying to find any respite from the pummeling fists of the small, brunette vampire.  Faking another left, she followed up with a quick right hook, which the vampire dodged right into.  Buffy dropped to the ground, sweeping her right leg out from under the long, dark green skirt and around, knocking her larger opponent off his feet.  As she stood above him, tossing her makeshift stake from hand to hand, she leaned over conspiratorially, and said, "I'll let you in on a little secret.  I'm really the Slayer."

            "The Sl-sl-slayer?" The vamp's eyes grew wide as he scrambled backwards.

            "Of course, you won't be around to tell anyone," she continued before darting forward and plunging the wood into the vampire's heart just as he regained his footing.

            Buffy failed to see, however, that the vamp was already swinging at her head and his fist connected with her left temple just before it dissolved into dust.  The blow stunned her and knocked her to the ground, where she sat for a minute, regaining her equilibrium, since the threat had been eliminated.

            "Are you alright, miss?"

            Buffy looked up in the direction of the voice to find a concerned looking, handsome man about her own age bending over her.  He had chestnut brown hair and a small, fairly recent cut over one of his deep green eyes.  "I saw that large man attack you.  I blinked and he was gone.  Did he steal your purse?  Did you see which way he went?"

            "I…" Buffy trailed off, unsure of what to tell the stranger.  

            "Oh, how awful of me," the man said, shaking his head.  "Asking you all these questions and I haven't even found out if you're alright.  Did you hit your head?"

            The genuine concern in the man's eyes made Buffy feel slightly guilty for the plan that was forming in her mind.  _It's not my usual style, _she thought, _but with no money and no place to go, I guess I'll have to "rely on the kindness of strangers." _ The last bit echoed through Buffy's head in a thick, southern voice, ala Scarlet O'Hara.

            "I, I don't know," she said softly, hoping she'd inserted enough confusion in her voice, and dropping her pitiful attempt at an English accent.  "My head hurts."  She placed a hand to her left temple where the vampire had punched her, trying to remember how everyone had reacted last year when they'd all lost their memories thanks to Willow's Tabula Rasa spell.

            The man helped her to her feet and she pretended to sway, as if she were dizzy, allowing the stranger to steady her.

            "I'm Richard, Richard Fox," the man said as Buffy regained her balance.

            "I'm . . . Drusilla," she replied, "Drusilla . . ."  Buffy trailed off, and pretended to panic, clutching at the man's arm.  "I can't remember my last name!"  _Either that or I never knew it . . ._

            "Oh dear," the man said.  "Do you remember where you came from or where you were going?  Perhaps where you are staying?"

            Buffy shook her head and blinked rapidly, trying to conjure up tears to fill Drusilla's large, dark eyes.  _Finally!_ she thought as she felt the tears come.

            Seeing the beautiful, dark-haired stranger on the verge of crying, the man smiled kindly.  "My family lives not too far from here.  Why don't you come with me?  We'll get you some tea and sort things out."

Ducking her head and smiling shyly, Buffy accepted.  Richard offered her his arm and she allowed him to lead her to his home.

To be continued in:  "Chapter Six:  Friends, New and Old" – where we get to see what's up in Sunny-D and LA!****

**☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼**

A/N:  I was going to hold out one more day, with the idea of giving people more chance to read, now that ff.net's finished acting wonky (for now).  But, I have the patience of a five-year-old on Christmas morning, so . . . Here you go!

Thanks to North Star, Rachel, and Vette, who were my light in the darkness this chapter, my tangible proof that this is interesting to someone besides me.  My hat's off to you for soldiering through the technical problems (I'm assuming it wasn't just my computer) and reviewing!  Yay for loyal reviewers, and yay for new names! Thank you, guys!


	6. Friends, New and Old

Chapter Six:  Friends, New and Old

            "There's no one home," Wesley announced, as the spell he'd preformed on Cordelia's still unresponsive body failed to turn the green it should have had the seer been in residence.  

            "What could have done that?" Angel demanded.

            "Any number of things.  Probably a spell, but not necessarily.  What was she doing before this happened?  Did she suddenly just fall over or was it gradual?"

            Connor shifted uneasily and Angel had to force himself to not glare at his son, but when he answered, his voice was still filled with some subtext the former watcher couldn't identify.  "She was sleeping.  She was fine before she went to sleep and then . . . we couldn't wake her up."

            "Are you certain there was nothing else?" Wesley asked carefully, not wanting to upset the obviously delicate balance between Angel and Connor, but needing to make sure.

            "Just tell me what to kill to fix this," Angel said shortly.

            "I'm not sure it's that simple," Wesley replied.  "Of course, there's the usual list of suspects when it comes to magical attacks.  But there are also many other possibilities.  This could be an as yet unknown function of her demon status.  We never did figure out what kind of demon traits she received.  Or, it could be that her duties are not quite as finished as she thought in the higher realms and she's been recalled temporarily.  The bottom line is, Cordelia's spirit isn't here.  And until we know more about where it is, I wouldn't recommend any action.  There's no one in there, and I don't think it'd be wise to draw attention to that.  You never know who or what might take up residence there."

            "That's not entirely true, sugar," a new voice said from behind them.  

            The group turned and looked at the green skinned demon in the doorway to the room of the hotel Angel had set aside for Cordy's use.

            "There's someone in there," Lorne explained, stepping into the room, his gaze fixed on the comatose seer.  "I don't think it's the princess, but that body ain't empty."

            "What do you mean?" Connor demanded, still suspicious of the demon.

            "I'm picking up an aura, gumdrop.  It's faint, but it's defiantly not Cordy."

            "How do we find out who it is?" Gunn asked from behind Lorne.  He too entered the bedroom, walking around a stack of still unpacked boxes to stand beside the bed.  "If someone else is in there, they might be keeping Barbie from coming back."

            "There's a spell that might work," Fred said from the doorway.  Her eyes darted to Gunn before quickly turning to Angel.  "I found it when we were looking for you and her this summer.  It didn't help us because it's for finding a spirit that's been separated from a body when you have the body.  But it might work now."

            "Go find the spell," Angel instructed the diminutive girl.  Turning, he continued, "Wes?  Can you . . . Will you do this?"

            Wesley nodded.  "Of course."

            The men stood in an uneasy silence around the seer's bed, each lost in his own thoughts as they waited for Fred to return.  

            After a few minutes, the physicist entered the room, her hands empty.

            "Where's the book, Fred?" Angel asked harshly.

            "Hey, man," Gunn took a step towards the vampire.  "Whatever your issue is, and personally, I think it's more than just Cordy playing Sleeping Beauty, but don't take it out on Fred!"

            Angel sighed, then took a deep breath before apologizing to the young woman.  "I'm sorry, Fred.  The book?"

            "It's okay," she said, smiling nervously at Angel before her expression turned worried.  "Unfortunately, the spell I remembered wasn't so much a spell as a reference to a spell.  The actual spell is in another book – one we don't have.  _Spirits and Souls:  Lost, Found, and Misplaced_."

            "There's a book called that?" Gunn asked incredulously.

            "I don't have that one either," Wesley said, ignoring Gunn's comment.  "But, I think Giles does.  I'll give him a call and see.  I'm sure if he does he could fax us the spell."

**☼    ☼    ☼**

"What do you mean there's a loophole?" Lilah's fist closed around the throat of the small, smelly creature, whose molted-brown skin fell off in chunks when she touched it. The dark-haired woman held it against the wall, its feet a good three feet off the ground.

The creature flailed its short legs out from under the black robe it wore – one of Lilah's early projects with the firm had been getting the creatures to wear any coverings at all while working on Wolfram & Hart property – trying to gain some purchase, while its hands frantically clawed at the well-manicured hand squeezing its windpipe shut.

Her need to know the information outweighed Lilah's ire long enough to drop the hobgoblin to the floor.  There it sat, gasping for breath as the enraged woman fixed it in place with an icy gaze as surely as if she'd skewered it to the floor like some giant demon insect pinned to a felt board for display.

"When y-y-you," the diminutive demon started, quickly correcting itself when Lilah cocked one eyebrow dangerously.  "When we, when we started the spell, the ah, addition of the second girl meant that we d-d-didn't have enough vi-virgins to power it.  So, we had to allow a loophole instead.  Magic that's that big has a high price."

Lilah sighed.  It was becoming a more and more prevalent problem for the firm.  Finding the amount of adult virgins in southern California necessary to fulfill the number required by Wolfram & Hart was harder every year.  _We should just start farming them,_ the woman thought, seriously considering the idea – maybe a cult.  The offshoot of the Shaker religion that had flourished in Eastern America in the 1800's – which believed in life long sexual abstinence – had been started by an enterprising member of the firm to provide a sufficient pool of sacrifices.  Of course, not everyone who converted to it had been a virgin, but there were also a lot of magical uses for the kind of sexual frustration the religion built up in its members.

Later, though.  Right now, she had to find out how much damage had been done by her decision to include Cordelia in the spell.

"What.  Is. The.  Loophole?" she demanded slowly.  A more astute creature might have been offended by her tone.  However, the hobgoblins, while exceptionally adept and intelligent when it came to magic, generally gave the average doorknob a run for its money in the smarts department.

"If the objective that the spell was designed to prevent is completed," the pitiful creature wheezed, slowly edging away from the woman's reach, "the spirits will return to their appropriate places."

Taking a swift step forward, Lilah viciously kicked the cowering demon before saying sweetly.  "Then I guess you'd better hope that doesn't happen."

Turning, she left the conference room.  If the spell failed, the mages involved were going to die a very painful, very slow death in retribution.  Smiling, Lilah shrugged.  Even if the spell worked, she might have them killed anyway.  Their personal hygiene made a Kazulka's lair seem like an ideal vacation spot.  And Kazulka demons used a carefully orchestrated, time-honored system of horrific smells – rotting flesh and whatnot – to ward off threats to their nests.  

Plus, the hobgoblins only came up Lilah's knees and spent more time trying to look up her skirt than listening to directions.  

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            "Oh dear, you'll have to stay here tonight."  Richard's mother smiled kindly at Buffy, reminding her so much of her own mother, that Buffy was hit by a sudden longing.  "Tomorrow we'll see if we can't find out more about you."

            Swallowing hard, Buffy smiled back at the woman.  "Thank you, Mrs. Fox.  That's very kind of you."

            "Nonsense, dear," the woman shook her head.  "You're welcome to stay until we find out where you belong.  It's the least we can do.  And do feel free to call me Emma.  Now, come into the parlor and have some tea.  I can't believe Richard made you stand out here in the entryway instead of inviting you all the way in like a proper gentleman."  Shaking her head, the woman guided Buffy by the elbow down the hall.  "My sister and her son are visiting this evening.  He's Richard's age.  I'm sure the three of you will get on well."

            Richard smiled sheepishly at Buffy – in apology for his mother's effusive welcome or his own lack of "proper" behavior she wasn't sure – and followed the two women.

            Inside the parlor door, Mrs. Fox stopped and announced to the woman already seated, "This is Drusilla.  Richard was out walking and saw her attacked and her purse stolen.  The brute hit her rather hard, the poor dear, and she can't remember much past her name.  Except she seems to be American.  Drusilla will be staying with us until we can find out where she belongs."

            Turning to Buffy, Mrs. Fox continued.  "Drusilla, this is my sister, Mrs. Mary Sullivan."

            Buffy smiled at the woman, started to stick her hand out to shake, but aborted the gesture, moving her hand up to brush her hair back behind her ear, when she realized that handshaking probably wasn't something women did in this time.  "Nice to meet you."

            "And you, dear," Mrs. Sullivan said.

            Everyone but Mrs. Fox sat down while she served tea.  Richard recounted the evening's tale for his aunt, while Buffy studied the woman.  Something about her seemed familiar . . .

            A young man with longish, curly brown hair and glasses entered the room, mumbling to himself with his head down as he walked.

            "Cousin," said Richard, "I'd like to introduce you to our guest, Miss Drusilla."

            Buffy rose to greet Richard's cousin, saying, "Drusilla is fine.  Or, just Dru."

            The new man raised his head to greet her and Buffy found herself looking into a pair of bright blue eyes she would know anywhere.

**☼    ☼    ☼**

"Spike," Willow called down the stairs to the vampire in the Summers living room, "could you get that?"

            The vampire rose from the couch and started for the kitchen.  Xander had left to pick up Anya and the pizza, leaving Spike behind with Willow, Dawn, and the unconscious Slayer.  Both women were upstairs, sitting by Buffy's bed, watching for any change.  Spike hadn't felt it was his place to join them, so he'd stayed in the living room, waiting for the research session to begin.  The phone rang once again before Spike lifted the receiver from the wall.

            "Summers Residence," he said.

            "Giles, is that you?" a male voice with a British accent demanded from the other end.  "Thank goodness!  First I got the recording saying your store is closed indefinitely for renovations, and then when I found your home number disconnected, I became worried." 

            "Hold on there, mate," Spike cut off the other man's torrent of words.  "'M not Giles."

            "What?  Who is this?"

            "Who're you?" the vampire countered, afraid that a British voice meant a watcher.  And Spike suspected there wasn't a watcher out there who would be impressed to find a vampire –even a souled vampire – answering the Slayer's phone.

            "Wesley.  Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," came the formal reply before the voice returned to the slightly less cultured, less British tones of the beginning of the conversation.  "Is Giles there?"

            "No."  Spike offered nothing more, suspecting that this "Wesley, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce" – and if that didn't sound pretentious enough to be a watcher, he'd take up sunbathing – didn't know Giles all that well if he wasn't aware the watcher had returned to England over a year ago, give or take a couple of visits.

            "Well then, may I speak to Buffy?  This is her house, isn't it?"

            "Yes," Spike confirmed the second question.  "But she's not available.  Can I take a message?"

            There was a pause, before Wesley responded, "I'm looking for a book I believe Giles has.  Do you know where I can reach him?"

            As Wesley was speaking, Willow came into the kitchen.  "Who is it?" she mouthed to Spike.

            "Wesley something," he whispered to her.

            "Wesley?"  This time Willow spoke aloud.  "What's he want?"

            "Giles," Spike said, shrugging and holding the phone out to Willow.  Seeing his confusion, as she took the phone she said, "Ex-watcher.  He works for Angel."

            Spike rolled his eyes and turned to leave Willow alone to continue the conversation.  Just as he was sitting down in the living room he heard Willow's voice raise.

            "What?  Buffy's the same way!"

            In a flash, the vampire was back in the kitchen.

            "What's going on?" he demanded.

            Willow waved him off and said into the phone, "I'll call you back when we find the book."

            Hanging up the phone, Willow explained.  "That was Wesley.  Cordelia, I don't know if you know her, but we went to high school with her."

            Spike nodded impatiently.  "What about Buffy?"

            "This morning they found Cordelia the same way we found Buffy.  It could be a coincidence, but . . ." the redhead shrugged.  "Anyway, they think that Cordy's spirit, soul, whatever isn't in her body.  But they think that someone, or something, else is in there.  They found a spell to find out what it is.  But it's in a book they don't have."

            "But you do."  It wasn't a question.

            "Right, I think so.  It's in one of the books we used last year when we were researching how to bring Buffy back.  I, I think Tara had it."

            Spike's expression softened.  "Does that mean you have it then?"

            Willow nodded, glancing towards the basement door.  "Buffy and Dawn and Xander cleaned out her apartment after . . . after.  And, kept all her personal things for me.  I haven't gone through them yet."

            "Do you . . .I mean, I could," he gestured towards the basement, having correctly interpreted Willow's earlier glance as the location of Tara's things.  "If you want.  If you're not ready."

            "Thanks, Spike."  The witch's smile was warm but sad, as she laid a hand on his shoulder.  "But I have to do it sometime.  Why don't you go up and sit with Dawn?  She likes to think she's all grown up, but deep down, I think sometimes she still wants to be taken care of."

            The vampire shook his head, sadly.  "I don't think I'm the person for that, Red."

            "Give her a chance," Willow steered him to the stairs as she spoke.  "Give yourself a chance."

To be continued in: "Chapter Seven:  Like Sugar in Water"

**☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼**

A/N:  Any guesses?  I'm trying to give just enough clues that you could figure it out if you work really, really hard, but hopefully ones that aren't too obvious.  Of course, since I know the answer, all the clues seem blatantly obvious to me.  I just hope they're just teasing enough to you.  I should tell you too, I suppose, that while I'd love to hear your guesses, there's no way in heaven or hell I'm going to tell you if you're guesses are right, wrong, or even close.  But don't let that stop you from guessing!

            Thanks to my loyal reviewers:  North Star, Lora Darcy, Vette, and Winter.  You guys rock!  Thank you!


	7. Like Sugar In Water

Chapter Seven:  Like Sugar in Water

            Cordelia awoke to the sensation of being well and thoroughly kissed.  She instinctively kissed back, only to be rudely pulled from the moment by the realization of who she was kissing.

            _I'm never going to sleep again,_ she decided, still kissing Angelus.  _First, I wake up next to Drusilla, then I wake up to Angelus feeling me up, and now with the kissing . . . and, oh, but I'd forgotten how good this man can kiss!_

_            Hello!  _she berated herself.  _It's Angelus!  And you're not even in your own body!  Slutty much?_

Finally acquiescing to reason, Cordy broke the kiss and pushed the vampire off her.  Sitting up in the bed, she looked around, and was surprised to find Dru hadn't returned.  And, if the top half was any indication, Angelus had apparently decided to forego clothing when he went to bed.  He'd already been sound asleep under the covers when Cordy snuck in that morning, just as dawn was breaking.  She'd hoped that by waiting as long as possible, he wouldn't be as likely to come on to her; she'd congratulated herself on the success of her plan.  Unfortunately, she'd failed to think about this evening.

            "Where's Dru?"  Cordy jerked her leg back when she felt a cold hand creep underneath her long skirt and begin moving upwards.

            "Don't know," Angelus replied, not at all deterred by Cordelia's movements away from him.  His hand once again found her leg and started skimming up the flesh.

            Cordy reached down and grabbed his hand though the covers in an iron tight grip just above her knee.  "I can't believe you!" she cried indignantly.

            Angelus managed to get his hand lose, and when it brushed along Cordy's inner thigh, she sprang out of the bed so fast, she took the covers with her, ending up in a tangled heap on the floor.

            "Dru's gone missing, and all you can think about is sex!" she hollered at him, disentangling herself and trying desperately to keep her eyes from straying away from the face of the now naked, uncovered vampire on the bed.  "She wouldn't be missing if you hadn't scared her so badly yesterday!  And you don't even care!"

            As soon as she was standing, Cordelia marched towards the door, still yelling at Angelus.  "And another thing, Mister!  Don't think I don't know that you had some tavern wench in here yesterday!  I can smell it!"

            That was an aspect of vampire senses she'd found particularly disturbing.  The fact that she could smell the sex, even hours later, and somehow knew that the act had involved Angelus and a human female had wigged her out to no end when she'd first realized what that strange odor was that morning.  She'd been even more wigged to discover she was jealous.

            Realizing that the righteous indignation she'd worked up was going to get her out the door, Cordy decided the dress she'd slept in would have to do for another day.  With one last icy glare at Angelus, she grabbed her cloak and purse and flung the door open.

            Angelus was still sitting on the bed buck-naked with his mouth hanging open, wondering when she'd started to care what happened to Dru so much or who he slept with when she wasn't around, when the door slammed shut behind the thoroughly pissed-off Darla.

            Cordelia waited until she was out of the inn and around a corner before she stopped and slumped against a wall with relief, congratulating herself on her Oscar worthy performance.  That obstacle was dealt with for the time being – and if she really worked at it, she could probably continue to "stay mad" at Angelus for at least another day.  __

_            Hopefully I'll be gone by then, and then those two can . . . and there's no way I can finish that sentence that won't yuck me out!_

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            Willow opened her eyes as she emerged from the spell-induced trance, her face pale.  She was seated in a chair next to Buffy's bed, having just performed the spell Wesley had called about.  

            "What did you find out?" Xander asked worriedly, not liking the lack of color in his friend's face.  Either the spell was that draining or the news Willow bore was that bad.  Considering the situation, he suspected the latter.

            The witch's eyes darted nervously between Xander and Spike before she decided that the safest bet at this point was to look at Dawn or Anya.  

            "I should talk to Wesley," Willow said, evading Xander's question.

            "Tell us first," Xander demanded.  "It's that bad?  What did you find?  Is there someone else in there?  Or something?  Is she …"  Even now, Xander couldn't bring himself to voice the dreaded "d" word in relation to Buffy.  "What is it?"

            Willow stood and slowly moved so that she was between her childhood friend and the vampire she knew was going to take the brunt of his anger and frustration when Xander learned what she'd discovered.

            "There is someone in there," she explained, then decided against telling Xander until she had more information.  "But let me talk to Wesley first."  Picking the cordless phone up from the nightstand beside Buffy's bed, she said, "Spike, why don't you come down with me, and, uh, help me make some tea while I talk to Wesley."

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            "And I thought losing my soul from sex was bad."  Angel's response to Wesley's announcement that Darla's spirit inhabited Cordelia's body was laced with bitter irony and caused all but one of the heads in the room to turn to him incredulously. 

            "You slept with her, man?" Gunn demanded, moving towards Angel.  "Even though you know what could happen to you?  And you lied to us about it!  You told us she just went to sleep."

            "Oh, _I_ didn't sleep with her," Angel said darkly, pointedly refusing to look at his son.

            Fred's eyes grew wide as she figured out what Angel meant.  When she spoke, her voice came out high and surprised.  "Oh."

            "Yes, well," Wesley said, "I doubt that the, er, physical activity is what triggered this.  I think we're looking at a spell.  The timing is simply coincidental."

            The phone rang, cutting off further conversation, and he left quickly to answer it, thankful not only of the respite from the latest startling revelation, but also for the progress he hoped to make after speaking to Willow and finding out what the Sunnydale group had discovered.

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            "You did this!" Xander accused, taking a threatening step towards Spike.  The vampire and Willow had just returned to Buffy's room, and the redheaded witch had announced who had taken up residence in Buffy's body.

             When they had gone downstairs, Willow had pulled out the tea kettle and filled it in silence.  It wasn't until after she'd put it on the stove, that she turned to Spike.

            "It's Drusilla," she said.

            "What?" Spike asked, confusion clouding his face.

            "In Buffy," Willow explained.  "It's Drusilla.  I wanted to tell you first because we'll need you to control her if she wakes up, and, well, Xander's going to freak."

            Spike snorted.  "Yeah.  Well, I'll stick around in case you need me.  If Dru wakes up, she'll probably take off.  And with the Slayer strength, none of you lot'll be able to stop her."

            "Spike," Willow began hesitantly, "is there any way…"

            Spike closed his eyes, realizing he fully deserved the accusation, but still hurt by it.

            "…that Dru could be responsible for this?"

            He looked at the redhead in surprise.  She looked at him expectantly, no guile apparent on her features.

            "I…" Spike started, "maybe.  But it's not really her style.  Too subtle.  'Sides, if Dru'd orchestrated this mess, wouldn't she want to be able to wake up in Buffy's body?"

The redhead nodded and shrugged, picking up the phone.  It wasn't until after she'd finished with Wesley and the two started up the stairs that Spike spoke again.

            "Thanks, Red," he said.

            "For what?"

            "For not assuming I was responsible."

            She turned to him, surprise on her face.  "Oh, well, you're welcome, I guess."

            They continued on in silence for about five seconds before Willow said cautiously, "Um, you're not, right?"

            "No, Red."  Smiling, Spike shook his head.  His mood remained relatively light, regardless of the situation, until Xander's automatic assumption of his guilt.  Not that he expected any less from the boy, but it still hurt.

            "Actually," Willow said, stepping between the two, and effectively halting Xander's advance, "we think it's probably an attack on Angel that went wrong.  Cordelia has Darla inside of her.  Apparently she and Angel are pretty close.  Cordelia, that is, not Darla.  Although I guess she was pretty close to Angel, too, or Angelus anyway, and I'm going to stop talking now."

            "So, someone wants to get Angel.  They take two women who are very close to him, Buffy and Cordelia, and do a body swap with his old family," Anya said.  "That's really quite creative."

            "Wait," Xander said, too used to Anya's unusual perspectives to react to her comment.  "Isn't Darla dead?  Didn't Deadboy dust her a really long time ago?"

            "She's alive again," Spike said.  "Or, undead again.  Some lawyers brought her back a couple of years ago.  Made her human.  But she was dying, probably from syphilis or somethin' similar.  Anyway, she tried to get the poof to turn her again, but he wouldn't.  So, Dru did."

            "And you've known this for how long and didn't tell us?" Xander demanded.  "Didn't feel it might be something we needed to know?"

            "Not really," Spike said, some of his old arrogance showing through as he faced off against Xander.  "She was mostly interested in botherin' Angel.  'Side, like I said, it was a couple of years back, right before…" he trailed off, unsure of how to continue.  Spike marked that period of his life around a single important event – Buffy's death and resurrection.  However, he still didn't like to talk about it.  Settling on what to say, he continued, "…before Glory."

             "Um, right," Willow said.  "That's what Wesley said.  About Darla. Only in less detail.  But you're right, Xander.  She is dead, again.  We think if she and Cordelia switched bodies, that will be the hard one to fix because that means Cordelia's in a hell dimension somewhere that Darla would have gone to when she dusted.  Wesley did say something about Darla's death being self-sacrifice, but he still wasn't too hopeful that that one act would cancel out all her years of evil.  Anyway, Buffy should be easier to fix because Drusilla's still alive, or undead.  We just have to find her."

            "So, we just wait for Buffy to come home?" Dawn asked.

            "Well, I'm sure she's working on getting here," Willow told the teen.  "But there's no reason we can't try and find her and meet her halfway."

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            When Wesley returned to the upstairs room he was met by awkward silence.  Fred and Gunn were now sitting next to each other staring at Cordy lying on the bed, one hand from each joined between them.  Connor and Angel stood on opposite sides of the room, avoiding looking at one another.

            "It appears that what's happened to Cordelia is connected to Buffy's condition.  Her body also has a displaced spirit within it."

            "Who is it?" Fred asked.

            "Drusilla," Angel said, staring at the doorway past Wesley's shoulder.

            "Yes," Wes said, looking at Angel quizzically.  "How did you—"

            The former watcher's question was cut off as Connor pushed past him, barreling towards the door behind Wesley and the sleight, dark-haired vampiress standing there.

            "Connor, no!" Angel shouted, having already started moving.  His hand closed around Connor's arm, jerking the boy to a halt just before he breached the invisible barrier in the doorway.

            "Silly little boy," Dru chided, holding out her index fingers and using one to brush down the length of the other in a "shame, shame" gesture.  "Even when she's Grandmamma, I can't come in.  Still too human."  She laughed before turning hopeful eyes to Angel, leaning forwards conspiratorially.  "She's just like me.  She sees the pixies dancing in the stars.  She would make a lovely addition to our family.  Will you make me a sister, Daddy?"

            Angel took in a deep, unneeded breath before responding as patiently as he could.  "We're not a family anymore, Dru."

            Drusilla looked at him as if he were the crazy one before answering, "Of course we are.  You don't get to pick your family."

            "Who is this?" Connor demanded.

            Angel sighed.  "Connor, meet Drusilla, your sister or aunt or…or something.  I, I sired her back when I was evil."

            Dru turned quizzical eyes to Connor, cocked her head to the side and reached out as if to stroke Connor's face.

            Forgetting the invisible barrier that still separated them, Connor jerked his head back.

            "Er, Drusilla," Wesley said having picked up on Dru's earlier comment and hoping to head off the landmine that Drusilla and Connor interacting was sure to be, "what did you mean about Cordelia being Grandmamma?"

            "The little girl who sees pretty pictures of death and destruction isn't there.  Grandmamma is."

            "Darla," Angel clarified.  "She hated when Dru called her that."

            "I don't understand," Wesley said.  "We assumed they'd switched bodies somehow.  But if Dru's here . . . Drusilla, do you know what happened to Buffy?"

            "Nasty, icky Slayer."  Drusilla pouted sadly.  "Stole my Daddy.  Stole my William.  She's me, but I can't wake up."

            "Do you know what's going on, Dru?" Angel asked, using a stern voice intended to ensure Drusilla's cooperation.  He might feel guilty for the numerous atrocities he'd visited upon Drusilla over the years, but that didn't mean he was above using her dysfunctional view of him as a father figure to his advantage when it came to helping someone he cared about.  "How do we fix this?"

            "You can't," she said sadly, backing away from the door and twirling around, like a child who had just discovered she could make her dark skirts fan out around her.  "Only the Slayer can.  But she won't.  And then we'll all disappear, like sugar in water.  Never to have been."

**☼    ☼    ☼**

            "Never again," Cordelia swore to herself as she pushed open the door to the Devlins' shop.  She'd always thought the old-fashioned dresses like she now found herself in were glamorous and exciting and romantic.  After two days stuck in them and the corsets and petticoats that went beneath them, though, she was convinced that, regardless of how beautiful she might look – _and let's face it, it can't be that beautiful while I'm in Darla's body_ – there was nothing glamorous about wearing the constricting, uncomfortable clothing.

            Shaking off her discomfort as an inescapable fact, she smiled as Mrs. Devlin looked up from the book she was reading while standing across the counter from Cordy.  

            "So, what's the verdict?" Cordelia inquired.

            "I beg your pardon?"  Mrs. Devlin's hand crept towards the open bottle of holy water underneath the counter at the unfamiliar turn of phrase from the blond vampire, fearing it was a lead in to something she'd rather not be party to – namely, her death at Darla's hands.

            "The book," Cordy explained, worried that the woman had tensed up, fearing it meant bad news.  "Did it have the spell?  Can you do it?"

            "Oh, yes," the woman said, forcing her body to relax.  "I've set up the preparations in the back room.  Go on back."  She gestured to a door off to her right as she continued.  "I just need to grab a few things and lock the front door.

            "I'm so glad I ran into you," Cordelia said as she opened the door.  Pausing, she turned to look at the kindly woman.  "I really appreciate your help."

            Mrs. Devlin smiled nervously and pretended to busy herself with gathering items from behind the counter until Darla stepped through the opening.

            Cordy paused just inside the door, giving her eyes a chance to adjust to the low light in the back room.  Seeing a circle of sand on the floor with a high-back, wooden chair sitting in the middle of it, she took another step forward.

            Mrs. Devlin looked up and smiled with relief when she heard a sharp crack from the back room, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.  Hurrying to the front door, she locked it before swiftly moving to the back room to help her husband restrain the unconscious blonde visitor.__

To Be Continued in: "Chapter Eight:  The Devlins"

**☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼**

A/N:  Cue ominous "Dum, Dum, Dum" music.  Lovely to hear from everyone – old friends and new names alike!  Thank you so much for the huge response to the last chapter!  Rachel, Vette, Winter, North Star, Wordylou, Leahalexis, Lia, and Rowan – You guys made my day.  In fact, you made about three days for me!  THANK YOU!  Hope you enjoyed this chapter, too.


	8. The Devlins

Chapter Eight:  The Devlins

"Ohhh," Cordelia moaned as she regained consciousness.  The back of her head throbbed and she went to reach up and feel the bump.  When she tried to move her hand, though, she found that she couldn't.  Opening her eyes, she squinted through the dark to see her arm securely tied to a chair arm.  Looking around, she realized she was in the Devlins' back room, tied to the chair she had seen earlier.  Further experimentation revealed that not only were both arms tied down, at the wrists and elbows, but also, ropes securely bound her ankles to the chair legs and even more rope wound around her torso and the chair's high back.  She supposed she should be thankful she wasn't blindfolded and gagged.

"Hello?" she called out.  "Mrs. Devlin?  Anyone?"  Receiving no response, she raised her voice and shouted, "HEY!  What's going on?"

"I told you we should have gagged her," an unfamiliar, masculine voice said in the next room.  

_So much for that idea_, Cordy thought ruefully.  She focused her attention, straining to hear the voices through the closed door.

"And if we gag her, how much information are we going to get out of her?" a feminine voice she identified as Mrs. Devlin argued.

"Why can't we gag her until we're ready for the spell?" the presumably Mr. Devlin asked.

"Do you want to get close enough to her mouth to take it off when she's conscious?" the woman demanded sarcastically.

"Why can't we just keep her tied up and gagged until the Council agrees to our demands?" the man countered.  "Ever advantage we give her only makes it more likely she'll escape."

"We'd be foolish not to have a back-up plan," the woman explained in a tone that told Cordelia this wasn't the first time the couple had had this argument.  "What if they agree, only to take her, kill her, and back out of the bargain?  We have to get the information.  It'll guarantee they keep their end."

Cordy heard no response, but soon the door opened and the couple entered the room.  Were Cordelia not tied up in the woman's back room, she would still think that Mrs. Devlin was the embodiment of a kindly matron.  Her husband on the other hand, was exceptionally tall and thin and balding slightly.  His face was lean and pinched, giving him classic "bad guy" features.  

"Let's cut the crap, shall we?" Cordy asked icily.  "I'm guessing you've got some sort of grudge against Darla.  But it's not enough for you to just kill her when you had the chance.  So, the question is: What do you want?"

"You're not in charge here, vampire," the man practically spat the words at her.  "We are."

Cordelia looked around coolly before responding.  "I'm getting that.  But I can't really help you if you don't tell me what you want."  _Not that I've got a lot of hope of being able to help you if you do tell me . . ._

Mrs. Devlin snorted.  "Do you think we're foolish enough to believe that you'll just cooperate with us?"

Cordy rolled her eyes.  "Okay, this whole discussion is going to get old real fast.  So, let me tell you what I know.  One, you want to trade me to the Council, of Watchers I'm guessing, for something.  What I don't know, but for Darla, it must be big.  Two, I'll help you with what I can, but I don't think it'll be much.  You see, I'm not Darla."

"Of course you're not," Mrs. Devlin replied patronizingly.  "So, you overheard us talking.  And you just expect us to believe that you're not Darla?  You match the descriptions.  You match the drawings.  You told me your name is Darla."

"Do you even remember why I wanted your help?"  Cordy asked, exasperated with the conversation already.

"You said you wanted a spell to detect and identify other spells," the woman said.  "I'll admit I'm not sure what evil you plan with that spell, but there's no way I'd help a vile creature like you!"

"I wanted that spell," Cordy explained slowly, trying to reign in her temper, "because I think I'm under a spell.  I am not Darla.  I woke up in her body two days ago.  I can only assume she's in mine.  Which, I've got to tell you, isn't something that has me jumping for joy.  She could be killing my friends, my family.  She could be killing me!  I have to go home.  Do the spell!  You'll see I'm telling the truth."

**☼    ☼    ☼**

"So, you cousin seems nice," Buffy ventured.

"Oh, William?" Richard asked, looking up from the checkerboard where he and Buffy were sitting.  "He is.  Got his head in the clouds most of the time, but a nicer chap you'll never meet."

"What do you mean?" Buffy said, reaching down to double jump her red piece over two of Richards' black ones.

"He fancies himself a poet," the man explained, scratching his head thoughtfully as he studied the board, trying to decide on his next move.

"A poet?" The surprise must have been clear in Buffy's voice because Richard looked up at her quizzically.  She quickly tried to explain, "I, um, he just didn't strike me as the poet type."

"He isn't," Richard said laughing good-naturedly.  "This is, his poems aren't very good.  But, he's always been a dreamer."  The man shook his head sadly as he continued.  "His father passed away this summer.  William will graduate from University this year, and then, he'll have to take over his father's business.  I dare say he isn't looking forward to it."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked.

"At University he's always chosen to take more literature and humanities classes than anything else.  His father was an accountant.  William's quite smart, but his heart's never been in the more mundane studies, like math.  But, someone has to support his mother, so William's been chosen."

"Oh."  Buffy wasn't sure of what else to say.  

Richard returned his attention to the board and chose to move one of his back pieces forward.

"So, tell me more about him," Buffy said conversationally, aware that her continued interest might arouse Richard's suspicions, but unable to resist this opportunity.  The previous evening, she had found herself at a loss for words when she was introduced to the man who had so obviously become Spike.  After a momentary pause, she'd recovered enough to smile and exchange pleasantries with the group throughout tea.  She'd begged off being an active participant on the grounds that she'd felt dizzy when she stood up to greet William and her "amnesia," which made telling them about herself thankfully impossible.  Everyone had been appropriately sympathetic, allowing her ample opportunity to study William while the others talked.

To her surprise, Richard laughed.  "You seem quite taken with him, Dru."

Buffy's eyes grew wide, and she started to protest, unsure of how to answer, before realizing that this could work to her advantage.  _If you only knew the half of it . . ._

"I should warn you," Richard cut her off before she could form and voice a complete thought.  "Right now he's absolutely dizzy over this horrid woman named Cecily. She'd never look twice at him.  Too concerned with money."  He gave her an appraising look before continuing, "Actually, I think you might be good for him, Dru."

I don't think either Drusilla or I qualify as "good for him," Buffy thought sadly, but knowing the chance to learn more about William was too good an opportunity to pass up, she simply smiled in response to Richard's comment and moved her game piece. **☼    ☼    ☼**

"Well," Willow said, pushing the _Talk_ button on the phone, terminating the call she'd been engaged in.  Turning to the others, she announced, "Drusilla showed up in LA."

"Buffy's in LA?" Dawn asked, excitedly.  "That's great!"

"No," the witch said slowly.  "Drusilla's in LA."

"The same Drusilla that's supposedly in Buffy?" Xander asked.

"Yeah," Willow said, sighing.  "Only, apparently, she's not.  From something she said, they think we're dealing with time travel."

The others just looked at the redhead for a moment before Xander broke the silence.  "Say what?"

"Drusilla said something that made them think of time travel.  Which would explain the fact that she's there, but she's also in Buffy."

"Oh," Anya said in realization.  "Of course.  That makes sense."

"And again, I say, say what?" Xander said, looking between Willow and Anya.

"It's like a house," Willow explained.  "Say, for example, that you have a house with three floors.  And you're on the first floor.  There can only be one of you in the house at one time, no matter what floor you're on.  Since you're on first floor, there can't be another you on third floor. You with me so far?"

"Yeah," the dark-haired man said, "but I'm not seeing what this has to do with time travel."

"I'm getting there.  Okay, now pretend that instead of three floors, your house has a whole bunch of floors.  And each one is a different dimension."

"And you can only be in one dimension at a time," Dawn said, trying to wrap her mind around the analogy.

"Right.  Now, the trick is, that each moment in time, is its own house," Willow continued.  "So, no matter what dimension you're in, whether it's this one, or, say, a hell dimension like Darla should be in, there can only be one of you in each given moment in time."

"So, Dru and Darla can't wake up in their borrowed bodies because there's already one of them in this moment in time," Spike finished the analogy, nodding thoughtfully.

"Okay," said Xander, "so how do we fix it?  How do we find out _When in time are Buffy and Cordelia?_"  The last part he sang to the theme song from _Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego._

"Not that far, yet," Willow said, rolling her eyes at Xander's humor.  "Drusilla seems to know what's going on, so they're going to see if they can get any more information out of her.  We're going to look for a way to reverse it or find out when they are.  We can probably narrow down our time search, though."

"Yeah, if I did a time travel spell," Spike said, "I'd probably be trying to change the past."

"Right," Willow responded.  "And with both Dru and Darla involved, it seems likely that it's an attack on Angel.  Wesley told me there's this law firm that's always trying to get Angel to turn evil because they think he's too great a power for good.  Maybe they decided they weren't going to succeed and that if they sent Buffy and Cordy back to a particularly evil point in his past, one of them would kill him, erasing his potential to do good."

"Huh," Spike snorted.  "It's always about Angel."

**☼    ☼    ☼**

As soon as she sensed the sun was down, Buffy smiled at Richard and William, the latter having joined them for the evening meal, while Mrs. Fox was visiting her sister across town.  

"You know I'm feeling much better," she said.  "Could we go out for a while?  Maybe a walk?  I'm sure the fresh air would do me good."

Richard smiled at her and said, "I'd like that very much.  You know, some friends of ours own a shop not to far from here that carries various medicines.  They might have something to help you regain your memory."

"Great," Buffy smiled, trying to sound genuine.  Eek!  _Dark ages medicine! _ she thought, _Wonder if this "cure" will involve leaches?_

Once outside the house, Buffy was surprised and flattered to find both men offering her an arm.  Placing herself between the two and taking one arm from each, Buffy smiled.  Remembering her earlier conversation with Richard and deciding she might as well play the part for all it was worth, she turned to the other man and said, "So, William, tell me about yourself."__

**☼    ☼    ☼**

"Now what do we do with her?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes as she listened to the Devlins bicker in the next room.  They'd apparently forgotten or were unaware of vampire hearing capabilities.  The original spell Cordelia had been looking for and two separate truth spells later – because you never knew if they were going to work exactly right on a vampire – and the couple finally believed her story.  Luckily for Cordy, the truth spells had both been of the variety that did not compel her to speak.  They only compelled her to tell the truth when she choose to speak.  To be honest, she hadn't tested whether she could lie or not – the truth being in her favor.  The Devlins had, surprisingly, accepted the argument when she refused to answer certain questions that it would endanger the future.  While their other morals seemed transitory enough, they appeared to be firm believers in not corrupting the timeline.

"Our back up plan's shot," Mrs. Devlin said.  "But that doesn't mean we can't go through with the original plan.  Either we can switch her back and then we'll have Darla again, or the Council can do it, after they have her."

Cordy tuned out the conversation as it degraded into the arguing between the couple she'd become so familiar with in the past few hours.  _I can't let myself be turned over to the Council_, she thought.  _They might be able to get me home, but they'll kill Darla for sure.  And, as much as I hate to admit it, I can't let that happen  For Connor, if nothing else..  _

_I guess I'll just have to escape_, the seer decided as the bell over the shop door rang, drawing Cordelia's attention back to the other room.  

To be continued in: "Chapter Nine:  I'm Not"

**☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼**

A/N:  Let me know what you think, if you're so inclined.  Special thanks to Winter for the nice feedback last chapter.  Go check out her stories; you'll love them!  Especially the "Weathered" series and "Breath of Heaven."


	9. I'm Not

Chapter Nine: I'm Not

            Buffy looked up as Richard pushed open the door to the shop, causing the bell to ring.  She and William followed him through the entryway and into the building.  A couple – the owners, Buffy guessed – looked up from what appeared to be a heated discussion, plastering identical smiles on their faces.  Buffy's eyes narrowed.  She knew that look.  She'd seen it on Dawn enough times to know it meant "I want you to think I'm completely innocent."  Since Dawn had become aware that she made that face, though, the teen had taken to randomly using it just to throw Buffy off.  However, nine times out of ten, it still meant Dawn might as well be holding the proverbial smoking gun – or as was more likely, some stained article of Buffy's clothing she'd failed to ask for before borrowing.  Buffy's instincts told her that this was one of those nine times.

            "Sir, Madam!" As Richard greeted the couple, the woman stepped forward and the man disappeared into the back of the shop. 

Buffy carefully examined her surroundings.  The shop was small, but its interior looked similar to the Magic Box.  A selection of books lined one wall, while various ordinary items, which Buffy recognized from her long association with the supernatural as having wide use in magical circles, covered the shelves.  That, in itself, wasn't enough to arouse Buffy's suspicion about the nature of the shop.  However, the fact that all these everyday items were gathered together and sold in one place was.

            Buffy felt she should be relieved; she'd seemingly found a magic shop, which dramatically increased her chances of getting home.  However, something felt off.  That gut feeling, combined with the owners' suspicious behavior, meant the Slayer was on alert.

            "Mrs. Devlin," Richard said, "I'd like to introduce you to Miss Drusilla, who is staying with my family, and my cousin, William Sullivan."

            For a split second, Buffy thought she saw the woman's eyes grow marginally wider before she smiled kindly.  The action was so brief, however, that Buffy wasn't sure if it had happened, or if she'd imagined it. 

            "Miss Drusilla was hit in the head the other day, and she has lost her memory," Richard explained.  "We were wondering if you carried anything that could help her remember."

            "Perhaps," Mrs. Devlin said thoughtfully.  "Let me check in the back if we have all the herbs you need.  Excuse me."

            The woman disappeared through a door, and Buffy scanned the store again, looking for the source of her continued unease.  Observing her intense scrutiny, Richard leaned over a whispered reassuringly.  "I know it's a peculiar looking shop, but we've gone to the Devlins for years.  Mr. Devlin and Father are old friends."

            "Oh, yes," William quickly added.  "Mother often uses herbal teas that Mrs. Devlin recommended."

            "I'm sure she'll find something," Buffy said, her attention only half of the men.  A loud crash from the back room interrupted her inspection.

            "Oh, dear," Richard said as he started towards the door to the back room.  "I hope she's alright."

            Before he could reach the door, however, it opened, and Mrs. Devlin came into the main room, quickly closing the door behind her.

            "Are you alright?" William asked concernedly.  "We heard a noise."

            "I knocked over a box," the woman said.  "Nothing to worry about.  The good news is, I do have the ingredients to make a medicine.  If you'll just come in the back, Miss Drusilla."

            "We'll come with you," Richard volunteered, mistaking Buffy's suspiciously narrowed eyes for nervousness.

            "I think it would be best if Miss Drusilla come back alone," Mrs. Devlin said firmly.  Her response followed very quickly on the heels of Richard's statement, making Buffy even more suspicious that the woman was trying to separate her from the men.  Deciding that not only preventing the woman from achieving her objective was important, but also that she could take Mrs. Devil if it came to that, Buffy responded sweetly, once again wrapping her hand around William's arm.

            "I don't mind."

            "As you wish," Mrs. Devlin acquiesced, making a sweeping motion towards the door, indicating that the others should precede her into the back room.  Richard went through the door first, holding it open for the other two.

            As Buffy and William entered the darkened back room, she slipped her hand from his arm, freeing herself and automatically falling into a defensive posture, her danger instincts still screaming at her.  Off in the shadows on the other side of the room, the three could see a woman sitting in a chair and a man standing behind her.  Taking another step forward, Richard and William realized that ropes bound the woman's limbs to the chair and a gag covered her mouth, while Buffy and Richard realized they knew the woman – Buffy, from a rooftop shootout long ago, as well as recent, more disturbing events, and Richard placed her as the woman he'd saved from begin trampled by horses the previous day.

            "What is the meaning of this?" Richard demanded, starting towards the bound vampire, only to be stopped short by Mr. Devlin raising a crossbow as he stepped out of the shadows from behind Darla and placing the tip of the arrow against the blonde's temple.  A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed what Buffy already suspected; Mrs. Devlin stood in the doorway to the main room of the shop, holding another crossbow, this one pointed at her.  Buffy turned her body so her side was in the crossbow's target line, hopefully protecting her vulnerable heart.  Feigning unconcern at the armed woman, Buffy spoke to Mr. Devlin.

            "Go ahead.  Pull the trigger."  At Richard and William's incredulous looks, Buffy shrugged, failing to notice how large Darla's eyes had grown when the brunette spoke.  "Won't kill her."

            "Such compassion," Mrs. Devlin said, her sarcasm heavy.  "But then again, I don't suppose I ought to expect any different from a creature like you."

            "Madam," William said, drawing himself up and facing the woman who was obviously in charge.  "I don't know what you think you know, but there is no cause to talk to Miss Drusilla that way."

            "It's alright, William," Buffy said, placing a hand on his arm, fearing he would do something chivalrous, and ultimately stupid, like make a move towards the woman.  Directing her attention to Mrs. Devlin, she said, "What do you want?"

            "You."

            _Of course,_ Buffy sighed, _How__ could I _not_ have seen this coming?_  She nodded towards Richard and William as she said aloud, "Fine.  Let them go and you can have me."

            "You really expect me to believe a selfish creature like you would sacrifice yourself for others?" Mrs. Devlin laughed.  

            "You'd be surprised," Buffy said dryly as she felt a wry smile form on her face.  "But, I can see how you might have trouble trusting me, what with the crazed sociopath look I'm sporting these days.  Guess we'll just have to do things the hard way, then."

            As she finished speaking, Buffy whipped her foot up in a high kick, knocking the crossbow up and out of Mrs. Devlin's surprised hands.  Moving quickly, the Slayer grabbed the other woman's arm, spinning her around so she could wrap one arm around Mrs. Devlin's neck.  Simultaneously, her free hand reached out and deftly caught the crossbow as it fell towards the earth, swinging it up to point at the now captive woman's head.  A final turn meant that Buffy stood with her back to the door leading into the shop, Mrs. Devlin hostage in front of her, facing the other armed occupant of the room.  

            "Drop it," she instructed Mr. Devlin.  When the man failed to comply, Buffy repeated the command a little louder.  The second time did the trick.  The crossbow fell from the man's hand, clattering to the ground and knocking the arrow from its setting.  Gesturing to the left with her head, Buffy spoke again.  "Over there.  Move!"

            Once Mr. Devlin had retreated from his position behind Darla, Richard quickly moved forward and scooped up the crossbow.  While Buffy was giving William directions to find rope to restrain the elder man, Richard undid the bound woman's gag.  He had started on the ropes binding her left arm when Buffy noticed his actions.  

            "What are you doing?" she asked.  "Don't!  She's dangerous."

            "I'm dangerous?" Cordy demanded, indignantly.  "You're the crazy one, Dru.  And what the hell happened to your accent?"

            Buffy sucked in a quick breath, realizing she'd given herself away to the blonde vampire.  Deciding that she was, after all, as Darla had put it, the crazy one, she answered, "What accent?"  The struggling of Mrs. Devlin in her grip drew Buffy's attention back to the woman before she could respond further.

            "Look," the Slayer said to Mrs. Devlin, "You can calm down and let us tie you up, or I can knock you out and then tie you up.  It's your choice, but I'm guessing you'd be happier with door number one."

            "Drusilla," William began, understanding the meaning of the dark-haired beauty's statement, if not the specific reference, "are you sure such threats are necessary?"

            Mrs. Devlin stopped struggling against her captor, and Buffy pushed the woman away from her, towards Mr. Devlin, keeping the crossbow trained on the couple as she responded.

            "These people just tried to kidnap me.  Now, I'll grant they might have a legitimate grudge against Darla and Drusilla, but I still don't take kindly to things like that."

            "And I don't take kindly to being lied to," Richard said coldly, his voice drawing Buffy's attention to the fact that he had reloaded the other crossbow and now had it trained on her.  "Why don't you tell us who you really are, Drusilla?"

            "Fair enough," she said, desperately trying to think of a plausible explanation.

Buffy's earlier pop culture reference to one of those old game shows Gunn sometimes watched on the Game Show channel, had clinched Cordy's suspicions and she spoke up.  "You're not Drusilla."

            "I'm not," Buffy agreed.  "Still doesn't mean I'm going to help you, Darla."

            "Not even if I told you I'm not Darla?" the seer asked.

            "Okay, then," Buffy challenged.  "Who are you?"

            "I'm . . ." Cordy trailed off, suddenly unsure of what to say, only knowing some instinct inside of her was screaming that revealing her true identity would be foolish.  "I'm from the future.  I don't think it's wise to reveal my name."

            Seeing how caught up the others were in Drusilla and Darla's conversation, Mrs. Devlin nudged her husband and nodded her head slightly towards the darkest corner of the room, which contained another door, leading into the alley behind the shop.  As one, the couple turned and sprinted towards the door, Mrs. Devlin flinging it open as they reached it, the motion barely slowing their momentum. 

            Four heads turned and watched as the Devlins vanished into the night.  Buffy lowered her crossbow, but did not release it, as she turned back to Richard and Darla.

            "That's a good excuse," Buffy said to the blonde, "but it's also convenient.  How do I know I can trust you?"

            "I don't think you're the one who should be worried about who can trust who right now, considering you obviously remember more than you're letting on," Richard said angrily, his crossbow still trained on the dark-haired stranger he'd met the previous evening.  To his cousin he added, "William, please come over here and untie this woman."

            "No!" Buffy protested.  "We still don't know that it's not Darla."

            "And even if she is this Darla," William asked.  "How dangerous can she be?  She's just a woman."

            "Hey, buster!" Cordy said indignantly.  "I'll have you know I could kick your ass, even if I wasn't a–" the seer cut herself off, stopping just short of saying "vampire."  "…all tied up," she finished quickly.

            William halted his movement towards the blonde, startled by her vulgarity and threat.

            Buffy weighted her options before carefully setting her crossbow on the floor and slowly raising her arms.  While the Devlins were hopefully still running, it was equally possible, considering their apparent familiarity with not only the supernatural, but also Darla and Drusilla, that they could return with reinforcements at any moment.

            "We need to get out of here," she said to Richard.  "Untie Darla if you must, but she goes first, then me, then you two."  The Slayer was counting on three things: one, that Richard wouldn't actually shoot her; two, if he did, he wouldn't know to aim for her heart.  It would hurt, but it wouldn't be fatal; and, three, if Darla was lying and she tried anything, Buffy would still be between her and the men.

            Richard nodded his agreement and Buffy watched as William untied Darla, to be rewarded with a kind smile and a "Thank you" as the woman stood.  It was the uncharacteristic behavior that made Buffy's decision for her.  "I'm from California in the year 2002."

            "Me too," Cordy said, trying to think of another way to establish her identity without giving away information that could be used to find her in the future.  "How do you know Drusilla?"

            "How do you know Darla?" the other countered.

            "I asked you first," Cordy said.

            "And I gave my information first last time," Buffy argued.

            "Okay," Cordy ceded, rolling her eyes at the childish nature of the disagreement.  "Darla is…I know someone who has a lot of history with her.  And Drusilla, for that matter."

            "Dru is the ex of my ex," Buffy said before shaking her head.  "Actually she's the ex of more than one of my exes.  And this just gets weirder every time I think about it."

            "Harmony?" Cordy asked in disbelief.

            "What?" Buffy demanded.  "No!  Why would you think that?  Wait, you know Harmony?"

            "You said Dru was the ex of your ex.  Who I'm guessing is Spike.  And the last person, and only person, I know of Spike dating besides Drusilla is Harmony."

            "Weirder and weirder," Buffy muttered to herself.  "No, I'm…" she paused, swallowing.  It had gotten easier once her affair with Spike had become public knowledge among her friends to talk about it, but what she was about to say still came difficultly.  "I'm the one after Harmony."

            "Oh," Cordelia said, thinking.  "Wait a minute.  You said you've dated more than one of Dru's exes.  Who's the other?"

            Buffy just looked at the other woman.  "I don't know, Darla," she said, placing extra emphasis on the name.  "Who else was Dru ever involved with?"

            The light clicked on for Cordelia and she quickly put the pieces together.  "Buffy?"

            "You won't give your name, but it's okay to say mine?" Drusilla's face and voice asking the question, overlaid with the knowledge that it was Buffy inside of her made Cordy break into a hysterical giggle.

            "I'm Cordy," she admitted when she'd regained control of herself.  Buffy's lack of reaction made the seer prompt her.  "You know, Queen C?"  Drusilla's eyes took on a look of recognition, causing the absurdity of the situation to hit Cordelia again.  She burst out into full-blown laughter, and Buffy soon joined her.

            "Ladies?"

            The voice was so familiar that Buffy turned quickly, finding herself sharply disappointed when she was greeted with William's concerned face instead of the familiar smirk and cocked eyebrow she'd irrationally been expecting.

            "Did you say 2002?" he asked.

            Buffy nodded Drusilla's head before saying, "It's a long story and, to be honest, I don't think either of us fully understand it."  Receiving an agreeing nod from Darla – no, Cordelia – she continued, "But, like I said, we do need to get out of here.  Let's go.  I promise we'll tell you what we can when we're safe."

            As the four headed out into the night, Cordelia realized exactly what about the earlier revelations was still bothering her.  Turning to the woman beside her, she spoke.

            "So, you and Spike, huh?"

To be continued in: "Chapter Ten:  Brides of Angelus"

**☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼**

A/N:  Fear not, gentle reader, our gals may have found each other out, but there are still plenty of surprises a-brewing!  Plus, wacky folks who think kidnapping a vampire is a good idea still running around out there somewhere.  I mean, really, how stupid do you have to be to think you can kidnap someone like Darla and that's not gonna come back to bit you in the rear?  (Presuming Darla's really Darla…)

Thanks to Winter, IngridSarah, Vette, and Annie – you guys rocked my world with your reviews!  Also, if anyone's looking for some more good reading, go check out Annie's stuff (under the penname "mjaw") – very Spuffaholic!    


	10. Brides of Angelus

                                                    Chapter Ten:  Brides of Angelus

            Lilah looked up from the files she was working on when she heard the soft click of her office door shutting, even though it had already been closed.  By that time, though, Angel had glided across the room and was lounging on her black leather sofa.  She sighed and made a mental note to have whoever had set up the supposed "vampire detection" system maimed.  

            "Long day?" Angel asked solicitously, his voice thick with false concern.

            "Not as long as the one you must be having if you're here again," she responded.  "What is it this time?  Finally decide to sue Anne Rice for stealing your one-sided personality for her books, and you're looking for legal representation?"

            "Lilah, Lilah, Lilah," Angel said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.  "Let me tell you a story.  I'm sure you've heard it before.  Once there was a vampire with a soul who worked for the Powers."

            "Why am I not surprised?" the woman muttered, rolling her eyes.

            Ignoring the interruption, Angel continued.  "And he had a beautiful and kind seer who got horrible, painful visions of people in danger for him to help.  Now, one day she had a vision that wouldn't end, and it was killing her.  The vampire got very angry with the evil law firm behind this and violently killed their minion who was causing her never-ending vision.  Do you remember the moral of the tale?"

            "It's a good thing Connor wasn't around for you to tell bedtime stories to?" Lilah asked dryly.

            Angel leaned forward from the couch and held Lilah's gaze as he responded, ignoring her gibe.  "I told you not to come at me through Cordelia ever again."

            Lilah started laughing.  "I'm not," she said.

            Before she could even blink, Angel had crossed the room and was leaning over the other side of the desk, glaring menacingly.  "Here's what I don't think you're understanding," he said.  "I didn't just mean you, I meant Wolfram & Hart."

            "And here's what I don't think you're understanding," Lilah countered.  "This isn't about you.  In fact, you'll be pleased to know that Wolfram & Hart no longer has an interest in you.  Although, I'm sure we can work something out, random attacks by various cults, maybe.  You know, for old times' sake."

            The confusion on Angel's face made Lilah wish for a camera.  Pushing the button on her phone that opened the intercom line to her secretary, Lilah said into the phone, "Please call security.  I have a visitor who needs an escort out of the building."

            "Yes, Miss Morgan," the disembodied voice of an elderly woman replied.

            "What do you mean?" Angel demanded.

            "It's no longer about you," she said, smiling sweetly.  "Turns out it never was.  Guess we put too much stock in a prophecy.  Then again, we're not the first to do that, are we?"  While to the casual observer, Angel's face remained impassive at Lilah's crack, she had spent enough time studying him to know that her dig had hit home.  Reaching up, she patted his left cheek, saccharine dripping from her words.  "Guess you should have taken the chance to be human when you had it, huh?"

            "How do you know about that?" Angel demanded, wondering what else the lawyers knew that he hadn't realized.  Shaking his head, he amended his statement.  "Never mind.  It doesn't matter.  Just like it doesn't matter if you're going after me or not.  Cordelia is still off limits."

            "You know what I think?" Lilah said, as two burly security guards entered her office.  She was sure the vampire would break away from them before long, but equally sure he wouldn't return to her office until he was positive she was behind Cordelia's condition. "Something's happened to your seer, and you assume it's us.  I'm touched, really.  But if you knew for sure, I'd already be dead or hurting.  Instead you're once again making vague threats, hoping I'll give myself away.  Give me some credit.  My world doesn't revolve around you."

            _Anymore,_ she added silently as the door closed behind the vampire and his escorts.

**                                                         ☼    ☼    ☼**

            "So, you're vampires," Richard said conversationally.  The four were seated in the Fox parlor in an uncomfortable silence.  Both Buffy and Cordelia were trying to think of a discreet way they could excuse themselves from the men in order to compare notes and, if necessary, get their stories straight.

            Buffy chocked on her tea, nearly spitting it across the room, while Cordelia fared little better, only because she hadn't been drinking when Richard spoke.

            "Cousin!" William exclaimed.  "Don't be preposterous!"

            "No," Buffy said, wiping at her lips with a napkin.  "He's right."

            William's eyes grew large and he stuttered as he protested the unexpected information.  "B-b-but vampire aren't, aren't real.  They're fictional!"

            "No, William," Richard said, "They're not."

            "If you knew we were vampires," Cordy said to Richard.  "Why did you invite us in?"

            "Drusilla's been here for an entire day and no one's gone missing or died mysteriously.  I didn't realize what she was when I originally invited her in, but since she's had her chance to kill everyone here ten times over and hasn't, I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for now.  The same is extended to you as her friend.  Plus, you very well could have killed me the other day when we met on the street, but you didn't."

            "That's where I know you from!" Cordy exclaimed, realizing that Richard was the man who had pushed her out of the way of the runaway horses.

            "To be fair," Buffy said, "We're not really vampires.  I mean, we are, but…you remember how we said we're from the future?"

            Richard and William nodded.

            "Well, in the future, we're not vampires.  We're not Drusilla and Darla either, for that matter.  My name is Buffy, and that's Cordelia."

            "Cordy," the other woman said, smiling.

            "Cordy," Buffy amended.  "I woke up in Drusilla's body a couple of days ago.  I don't know how I got here.  When you found me, Richard, I'd just dusted a vampire.  That man who hit me didn't run away.  I dusted him."

            "Dusted?" William asked.

            "Killed," Richard said.  "With a wooden stake through the heart.  When vampires are killed, they dissolve into dust.  I've never seen it, but that's what I'm told."

            "That's right," Buffy said, nodding.  "If you've never seen it before, you might miss it if you weren't looking."

            "You killed him?" William asked incredulously, sounding repulsed by the very idea.

"It's a good thing to do," she explained, stifling a laugh at the horror in William's voice at the thought of killing.  "Vampires are inherently evil.  If I didn't kill him, he would have just gone on to kill an innocent person.  And he would keep doing it until someone stopped him."

"Forgive me for asking," William said, "but if vampires are so evil, why…"

"Why should you trust us?" Cordy asked bluntly.  When William nodded timidly in reply, the seer continued.  "Because we're not really vampires.  I mean, we are, physically, but our spirits, our souls are good.  We have souls."

"Vampires are soulless creatures by definition," Richard said.  "How can you have souls?"

"You'd be surprised," Buffy muttered under her breath before explaining aloud.  "Because we're not really vampires.  We're human."

"Even if that weren't the case," Cordy added, electing to neglect mentioning her lack of fully human status, "we're the good guys.  Just because we switched bodies with two evil vampires doesn't make us evil."

"Right," Buffy agreed.  "But when we switch back, if you see us again, it won't be us.  It'll be Drusilla and Darla, and they're dangerous."  Here the Slayer paused, a warning to avoid the two vampires at all costs on the tip of her tongue before remembering that William would, at some point in the future, have to get close enough to Drusilla to be turned.  _Unless I've already ruined that_, she thought, a new fear creeping into her mind.  _What if my being here and meeting William means that he'll avoid Dru?  If Spike never gets sired . . ._ the implications of such an occurrence raced through Buffy's mind, followed quickly by another, equally sobering thought.  _Maybe he's not supposed to get sired.  Maybe that's why I'm here._

"We have to be careful what we say and do," she announced, deciding to leave the question for later.  "I don't want to go back to a world that's completely different from the one I left."

"Very true," Richard said, "the timeline must be preserved."

"How do you know about vampires, Richard?" Cordy asked.

"My father works as a researcher for an organization that deals with vampires and other aspects of the supernatural," the young man replied, his chest puffing out with pride.  "The men in my family have worked for the Council for generations.  When I finish my studies, I will follow in his footsteps."

            "Your father's a watcher?" Buffy asked.

            "A what?" Richard said.

            "This council your father works for," Buffy explained.  "It's called the Council of Watchers?"

            "Yes."

            Richard and William were surprised when both of the women burst out laughing.  

            "I'd thought of them," Buffy said to Cordelia.  "But then I thought, what, am I crazy?"

            "Me too," the other woman confessed, still laughing.  "Guess we found them after all."

            "What's so funny?" Richard demanded.

            A new voice answered him from the room's doorway.  "Perhaps it's the irony of a watcher's family inviting three of the most feared vampires into the world into their home."

            Four heads turned, as the quartet automatically rose, to see Mrs. Fox standing stiffly in the doorway.  A beefy hand was wrapped tightly around her neck and Angelus stood behind her in game face, his other hand on her shoulder, holding the deathly pale, but still alive woman in place.

            "Oh dear," Buffy heard William utter before the young man's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor in a faint.

**                                                          ☼    ☼    ☼**

            "Are the ropes too tight?" Willow asked Spike as she finished tying him to one of the Summers' dining room chairs.  

            "Not tight enough, Red," he replied seriously.  "Make them tighter.  Don't want evil me getting out."

            "Still not liking this plan," Xander commented from the other side of the table.

            "It's either Spike or Angel," Willow reminded him, putting on her infamous Resolve face.  "One, I have to do the spell, and I'm here.  And two, if something goes wrong, I'd take old Spike any day over Angelus."

            From her seat at the kitchen bar, Anya patted the tranquilizer gun laying on the counter next to her.  "And I'll be ready just in case evil Spike does get loose."

            Dawn came into the room, carrying a box of magic supplies.  Taking out the appropriate candles and other ingredients, she arranged them on the table in front of the vampire at Willow's instructions while the witch finished restraining Spike, the finishing touch a blindfold over his eyes.

            Stepping back, she dusted her hands against each other, signifying a job well done.  Looking at the others, she asked, "Everyone ready?"

            At the confirming nods from the other three, Willow began her spell.

**                                                          ☼    ☼    ☼**

            "Oh, bloody hell," Spike moaned, opening his eyes as the dizzying effects of the spell wore off.  He found himself lying on the floor of what looked to be a sitting room.  Something about the room . . .before he could place it, his eyes were drawn to the other figures in the room.  A man who looked familiar, Drusilla, Darla, and – _bloody hell, indeed, mate_ – Angelus holding a middle aged woman in front of him.  _Wait_, he thought, squinting at the woman, _Aunt Emma?_

The realization that he knew the woman was quickly followed by the realization that he was breathing.  Not that it was unheard of for Spike to breathe; in fact he did it quite often.  However, something about the action seemed off to the vampire, almost as if he had to breath…

            _Oh, balls!_  Understanding struck him with certain clarity.  _I'm human!_  

            "What're you boys doing with me women?" Angelus asked conversationally, directing his remark towards Richard.  

            "That's none of your concern," Cordy said as bitchily as possible.  "What are you doing here?"

            "Saw you walking down the street earlier," Angelus replied.  "Thought I'd come in and join in the fun."

            Quickly, Spike climbed to his feet as Drusilla approached the larger vampire and his hostage.  

            "I think calling them your women might be a bit of an overestimation on your part, mate," Spike said.  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the other man in the room look at him strangely, but kept his attention on Angelus.

            Buffy stopped just short of Angelus when William spoke, the familiar tone and language choices giving her hope.  Cordy moved forward, drawing Angelus' attention from the young man and wrapped her right arm around Angelus' – the one holding Mrs. Fox in place.  Her left hand snaked up and around his neck, gently but firmly turning his face to hers.  Standing on her toes, she pulled harder on her neck, forcing his head down and pressed her lips firmly to his in a hungry, searching kiss.

            Spike watched the exchange anxiously, and the implications of the situation he found himself in came crashing down on him.  _I don't have my strength.  Which means I'm worth piss all in a fight.  What if Red was wrong and that's really Dru and Darla?_

            Pulling away from Angelus, Cordy pouted and said, "We were only playing, lover."  As she spoke, she released his arm and reached her right hand up and traced it down his cheek before running it out and along his left arm, gently tugging it until he released Mrs. Fox and shoved her past Cordelia into the room.

            Cordy rewarded him with another kiss, pulling away, but maintaining eye contact as she did so.  The moment stretched out, until Cordy slammed her knee into Angelus' groin, followed by a quick right hook, which hit the large vampire squarely on his jaw.

            As soon as she saw Cordy move, Buffy rushed forward, attacking from the left as Angelus viciously backhanded Cordy.  The seer took the blow well, having expected retaliation, and came up swinging.  However, only one of her next three punches landed.  Had she been facing Angelus alone, Cordy realized she wouldn't stand a chance, even with Darla's supernatural strength.

            Luckily, Angelus was angered enough by Cordy's attack that he missed Drusilla coming at him from the side.  Either that, or he deemed Darla the bigger threat.  Regardless, Buffy's high kick to his head dazed the vampire, opening him to a flying fist, in the form of an uppercut, from Cordy, which snapped Angelus' head back, knocking him unconscious.  He slumped to the floor, taking another punch in the gut from Cordy on the way down.

            Leaning over, the seer picked up his head by the hair and pulled it up sharply, releasing it so it thumped back against the floor in a dull cracking sound.

            "I think you got him, luv," she heard William say dryly.

            "Just making sure," Cordy responded.  "We have to tie him up before he wakes up." 

            "On it," William said, turning to Richard.  "Do you have any chains?"

            As Richard sputtered while trying to form a response, his mother still clinging to him, a new, middle-aged man appeared in the door to the room.  Taking in the scene before him, his eyes grew wide, and he reached inside his jacket.  Pulling out fairly good-sized wooden cross, he brandished it forward, thrusting it in the face of the vampire closest to him – Cordelia.  

            Instinctively, Cordy vamped out, reeling backwards and hissing at the man.  Recovering, she stepped backwards and de-vamped, moaning, "How much a cliché am I?"

            "Father, no!" Richard cried.  

            Spike stepped forward to place himself between the women and his uncle.  While he had initially been uncertain of the vampiress' identities, and even convinced that the blonde was actually Darla during the little display she'd put on with Angelus, their simultaneous attack of the larger vampire had convinced him the Scoobies and Angel's people knew what they were talking about.  As he faced his uncle, Spike mentally prepared himself for the pain he expected to feel from the cross, even though he intellectually knew it would have no effect on his human body.

            "William!" Mr. Fox cried.  "Step back, boy!  These creatures are dangerous!"

            "We're not who you think we are," Buffy said, stepping around the sandy blond-haired man in front of her.  

            "Stay back!  I know who you are!" the cross-brandishing man retorted, his eyes shifting quickly between Buffy and Cordy, trying to watch both women at the same time.  "You are the brides of Angelus!"

            "Did you just call us 'the brides of Angelus'?" Buffy asked incredulously, the cross forgotten as she tried to process Mr. Fox's comment.  "Eww.  And ohh."

            "No kidding," Cordy agreed.  "Just when I thought this couldn't get anymore twisted…"

            "Father!" Richard said again.  "They are not who you think they are."

            "Richard," his father said evenly as he kept his gaze on Cordy and Buffy.  "No matter how nice they seem, they are vampires.  They will turn on you."  A new thought struck him and his gaze shifted fearfully to his wife, who was still clutching at her son, tear tracks drying on her face.  "Perhaps they already have.  Emma, move away from him, quickly!"

            "We didn't do anything to him.  Look," Buffy said, gesturing between herself and Cordy. "We're not who you think we are.  But he is."  She pointed to Angelus.  "And he'll wake up soon.  We have to restrain him before he does."

            "They saved me," Emma interjected, speaking to her husband.  "He, he had me, and they attacked him."

            Mr. Fox's posture relaxed slightly, only to become once again rigid at a moan from the floor.  Spike quickly stepped forward and delivered a sharp kick to Angelus' head, returning the vampire to unconsciousness.  Turning to his uncle, he spoke.

            "Right then, got any chains?"

            "Why?" Mr. Fox asked suspiciously eyeing his normally mild-mannered, fade-into-the-background nephew.  "We'll just stake him."

            "You can't," Cordy argued.

            "Much as I hate to admit it," Spike said, "she's right.  It's complicated.  Right now we need to take care of him while he's unconscious.  So, do you have any chains?"

            The man regarded his nephew for a moment before answering.  "I do."  Turning to his son, he said, "Richard, they are in the chest at the foot of my bed.  Please fetch them."

            "You have chains in our bedroom?" Emma asked surprised that he husband could have hidden such a thing from her, as Richard left the room.

            "Where else are you going to keep them?" Spike asked, a wicked grin crossing William's face.  He was rewarded by a muffled giggle from Cordelia and a light slap to the back of his head from Buffy.

            "Back!" Mr. Fox cried, stepping forward as Drusilla assaulted the young man.  "Don't touch William!"

            "That's not William," she said.

            Spike rubbed his head, and although the blow hadn't really hurt, he played it up.  "Oy, Slayer, go easy on a bloke."

            "Whoa!" Cordy said.  "Who are you?"

            "Spike," Buffy answered for him.

            "Spike?" Cordy said incredulously, as she recalled Spike's other name and recognition of the body he now inhabited dawned.  "As in-"

            The man in question cleared his throat loudly, cutting the woman who he could now clearly tell wasn't Darla off.  "As in Spike," he finished pointedly, hoping she would understand that they couldn't let his human family know his future.

            "Right," Buffy said, quickly.  "So?  Tell me you're the cavalry."

            "Wish I could, luv," he replied, shaking his head.  "But this is only temporary.  In fact, I'm not sure how much time I have left.  Red said it could be anywhere from five minutes to an hour."

            "What's going on?" Cordelia demanded.

            "That's what I'd like to know," Mr. Fox demanded.  "If you're not William, who are you?"

            "Look, mate," he replied.  "I don't have time to play twenty questions."  Turning his back on the other man deliberately, he spoke to the two vampiresses.  "It's some kind of spell.  We can't undo it, but you can.  Red says there has to be something you were sent back to change, maybe prevent, either intentionally or not.  To reverse it you have to figure out what that key event is and make sure it happens.  I was supposed to help you find out.  We weren't sure exactly when you were.  We thought maybe the event was the curse.  But it's too early."

            "What about our bodies?" Cordy demanded.

            "Unconscious," Spike replied.  "You've got Dru and Darla in you, but something about them already existing in our time means they can't wake up and take over your bodies."

            Both women sighed in relief.

            "How do we figure out what the event is?" Buffy asked, wrinkling her brow in frustration.

            "You have no idea how weird this is," Spike said, shaking his head.

            "What?"

            "You.  Lookin' like Dru."

            "Yeah," the Slayer responded wryly.  "We're both sane right now."

            Spike chuckled before growing serious.  "I don't like it."

            "The sanity?" Buffy queried cheekily before growing serious.  "I'm glad."

            "I hate to interrupt the moment and everything," Cordy said, "but how do we figure out what this crucial event is?  It's not like we know what's supposed to happen except for the really big things."

            "Maybe I can help," Spike said.  "What year is it?"  Even as he asked the question, a wave of dizziness washed over him.  His knees buckled and he felt himself being caught as Cordy answered his question.

            "Eighteen Eighty."

**                                                          ☼    ☼    ☼**

            _Bloody hell,_ Spike thought as Willow's spell pulled him back to his own body.  When he opened his eyes, he found the blindfold gone and Dawn's concerned face inches from his own.  Over her shoulder he could see Anya holding the tranquilizer gun at the ready.

            "No need, Demon girl," he said wearily.  "I'm me." 

            "What happened?" Dawn demanded.  "Did you find them?"

            "I did," he confirmed.

            "And?" Willow asked.

            "She's fine," the vampire assured Dawn before guiltily pulling his gaze from the relief he saw in her eyes.  Instead he looked bleakly to the drained, worn out Willow at his side.  "I know what they have to do to come home."  He shook his head sadly.  "But they won't.  She won't.  We're all doomed."  

To be continued in: Chapter Eleven, which doesn't yet have a title.  Sorry****

**                                                   ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼**

A/N:  Well, kids, I don't have a lot to say today.  Of course, my thanks go to those who left fabulous and wonderful reviews this time around – Jedi Buttercup, Lia, Zana, Lora Darcey, Vette, and JC Skywalker.  THANK YOU, guys!


	11. Late Night Confessions

                                                           Chapter Eleven:  Late Night Confessions

             "Ugh!" Cordy said, as she released her half of Angelus, letting the unconscious vampire fall on the bed face first.  "Someone needs to cut back on the blood!"

            "He is dead weight," Buffy pointed out, before rolling her eyes at her own bad pun, as she rolled the vampire over onto his back.  "Never mind."  Turning to Mr. Fox, who hovered in the doorway to the room with the others, she asked, "You ready?"

            The man shook his head and swallowed hard as he tentatively stepped into the room.

            Seeing the man's hesitation, Cordelia snorted, "It's not like this is our lair or anything.  It's just a room."  

            Although Mr. Fox didn't comment, neither time traveler was sure he entirely believed the seer's words.  While Buffy and Cordy quickly worked at attaching the shackles around Angelus' wrists and ankles to the iron bed frame, Mr. Fox drew magical supplies from his pockets.

            The group had decided the best thing to do with the dangerous vampire was to chain him up back in the vampires' rented room and erase his memory.  Buffy and Cordy had carried the larger man between them, one of his arms over each woman's shoulders like he'd had too much to drink as they traveled the streets.  The three men, Mr. Fox, Richard, and William followed at a slight distance.  At first they'd been unwilling to let the two women bear Angelus' weight, but Buffy had insisted, not only because of the vampire strength she and Cordelia now possessed, but also because if Angelus woke during the journey, both of the women stood a better chance defending themselves.  As a result of her adamant refusal to even consider another option, the three men had followed close enough to be in range, but far enough to be disassociated with the group, so as not to attract undue attention about why the women were doing the heavy lifting.  

            When Angelus awoke, Cordy assured them he'd assume he'd done something to anger Darla and blame the blonde for his current position.  As a finishing touch, when he was firmly secured to the bed frame, Cordelia dug around the room until she found a bottle of something that smelled like whiskey and liberally poured in over the vampire, adding to the illusion of a drunken Angelus angering his mercurial sire to the point of her restraining him.

            The two women stepped back, and Buffy pulled Richard and William in from the doorway before closing it securely behind her.  Seeing that the two men were as skittish as Mr. Fox to be in an enclosed room that was, for all intents and purposes, the vampires' territory, she sighed before reiterating.  "We're not going to hurt you."

            "I know," Richard replied.  "But that doesn't make reconciling who you are with the body you're currently inhabiting any easier."

            Buffy nodded in understanding and kept her distance.  William seemed less concerned by their location and her proximity, and Buffy chalked what nervousness he was exhibiting up to the discomfort he was picking up off his cousin and uncle.  _Probably because he hasn't grown up hearing horror stories about vampires,_ she thought.  _It's helpful now, but that trusting nature'll get him killed someday._  An uneasy knot formed in her stomach and Buffy realized the irony of her thoughts.  Pushing thoughts she wasn't ready to deal with out of her head, Buffy returned her attention to the others.

            The four young people (in mind, at least) watched in silence as Mr. Fox preformed the spell to erase Angelus' memory of the last day or so.  When he finished he nodded and, checking the chains himself, the three men stepped out of the room so the women could change the dresses they'd been wearing for the past two days.  Once they finished, the five left the inn, heading back towards the Fox residence.

            "I'm sorry we can't remember how to do the uninvite," Cordy offered into the silence that had fallen over the group, now less one unconscious vampire.  "But hopefully this memory spell will keep him from finding your house again."

            "Hopefully," Mr. Fox echoed in a voice that didn't indicate much confidence in the sentiment he was expressing.   Shaking his head, he continued in a more upbeat tone, "But there's nothing more we can do, short of moving.  The spell works.  We'll be fine."

            Silence once more descended over the group, and they continued walking, each lost to his or her own thoughts.  When they reached the Fox residence, after convincing William he'd be much better off to stay the night there than return home through the dark streets, Cordy and Buffy retired to the guest room the Slayer had previously occupied.  Cordy was mildly amused to hear the click of a key in the door's lock as Mr. Fox took them up on their offer of being locked in the room for the night.  She rolled her eyes, but Buffy only shrugged.  

            "Could be worse," she offered.  "We kept Spike chained in a bathtub for a couple of weeks when he first came to us."

**                                                            ☼    ☼    ☼**

            "And you're sure he saw nothing?"

            "We had him blindfolded and we didn't say anything around him while he was here."  Willow's sigh echoed down the phone line into Wesley's ear as she finished explaining what had occurred when she'd sent Spike's spirit back in time, trading it for William's.

            "And you're sure Buffy won't figure out what to do?" the ex-watcher asked.

            "I'd say she's got a better than average chance of figuring it out," Willow said.  "I mean, that's kind of her thing.  Whether she'll do it is the real question.  Spike's sure she won't, but I'm…I don't know.  I'd rather not force her to make that decision.  It'd be better if we could just find out who's responsible for the spell and get them to reverse it."

            "We're still working on our lead here," Wesley said.

            "Right," Willow said, her voice hesitant.  "The lawyers?"

            "Yes," Wesley replied.  "It's rather a long story, but there's a law firm here in LA always trying to turn Angel evil."

            "Oh," Willow replied, deciding that was enough of an explanation for now.  "So, how does Spike fit into this?"

            "Although this is more subtle than most of their plans," Wesley said, "It's fair to assume that by taking Spike out of the mix, Angel's life will be changed enough that he doesn't come into contact with the gypsies, thus never getting cursed."

            "That's a pretty big chance, though," Willow said.  "Wouldn't it be easier to just send someone back to when the curse was going to happen and make sure it doesn't?"

            "Undoubedly," Wesley agreed.  "However, if Cordelia or Buffy were sent back then and figured it out, I can see either one dragging Angel to the gypsies to get cursed.  This way, the time line branches off nearly twenty years earlier, and success is more likely."

            "Why send Buffy and Cordelia?  Why not just send someone who knows what's going on?"

            "I suspect," Wesley replied, "that their agenda is not only to change the past, but to cause Angel great amounts of pain by taking away those which he loves in order to break him."

            "That makes sense," Willow said thoughtfully.  "Wait, those which he loves?"

**                                                                ☼    ☼    ☼**

            "Do you love him?"

            Buffy groaned and rubbed her hands over her eyes, half wondering if she could ignore the woman sitting next to her on the bed.

            "Look," Cordy said.  "I know we're not best buds, but sometimes it helps to talk to someone outside the situation.  And I've gotten a lot more understanding over the years.  Maybe I can help."

            As Buffy considered Cordelia's question, the automatic denial she expected to rise to her lips refused to come.  However, neither did an affirmative answer.  After a long pause, the Slayer sighed deeply and admitted softly, "I don't know."

            Cordelia's brow wrinkled in confusion, but when she spoke, none of the bitchiness Buffy expected accompanied her question, just soft concern.  "How can you not know?"

            "I just…" Buffy's fingers played with the edge of the bed's quilt as she stared at the opposite wall, not really seeing it.  "I care about him.  I missed him when he was gone.  And, he loves me.  I mean, he really loves me.  For so long I didn't think a soulless creature could love, but he proved me wrong.  I treated him like dirt, and he still loved me.  He changed his whole world for me.  Not because I asked, or because he was forced into choosing, but he voluntarily sought out pain and torment so he could be what I always told him he had to be for me to love him."

            "Buffy," Cordy said softly.  "What are you talking about?"

            "I told him I couldn't love him because he didn't have a soul."  The other looked up at her tearfully, and Cordy caught a glimpse of the woman Drusilla could have become had Angelus not focused his obsession on her.  While she had never known the human version of the dark-haired vampire, Cordy was floored by the humanity and guilt shining in her dark eyes as Buffy looked out.  Then, the Slayer's words caught up to her, and Cordelia realized what Buffy was implying.

            "He got a soul?"  At Buffy confirming nod, Cordy breathed out her next question.  "How?"

            "I don't know." Buffy smiled wanly through her tears as she admitted this fact.  "He disappeared one day, and then, just showed up a few months later."

            "Is it . . ." Cordelia trailed off, unsure of her question, very aware that while they were discussing Spike, Buffy had also been very much in love with Angel.  "I mean, is he…"

            "Is it a curse?" Buffy asked wryly.  "I don't know."  She shook her head before adding decisively, "It better not be."

            Cordy burst out laughing at the look of horror and embarrassment that crossed Drusilla's features when Buffy realized the implications of her last comment.

            "I mean…that…um," the Slayer sputtered for a moment before joining Cordy in laughter.  "I guess I meant what I said."

            As their laughter quieted down, Buffy sighed.  "It's just so confusing." 

            "Are you afraid if you love him he'll hurt you like Angel did?" Cordy asked gently.

            "He already did," Buffy answered, sounding small and defeated.  "Before he left, the one thing I thought I knew for sure was that he wouldn't hurt me.  I always said I didn't trust him, that I couldn't.  But, it wouldn't have hurt so much when he proved me right if I hadn't trusted him at least a little."  Sighing in frustration, Buffy threw her hands in the air.  "Why can't I just find a nice, normal, picket fence kind of guy?"

            "If someone came up and offered you the life of your dreams, you wouldn't take it anymore than I did," Cordy said decisively.

            "Huh?" Buffy asked, confused.

            "Long story." The seer waved her hand dismissively before continuing.  "The point is, what we do is important.  It's often hard, and painful, but somebody needs to do it.  More than that, it's the right thing to do.  If not you, then who?  Let's face it Buffy, if anyone's earned the right to find a nice human…ish boy and ride off into the sunset, it's you."

            Buffy's eyes narrowed as she listened to Cordelia's speech, sensing there was more to the seer's impassioned words than simply her opinion on Buffy's life.  

            "But that's not who you are.  You can't turn your back on the good fight any more than you could turn it on your friends.  It's okay if you love him.  It's okay if you don't.  But don't refuse to give him a chance just because of what he is.  He's not the vampire he once was.  From what you've told me, he hasn't been that for a long time.  It's not fair to him, and it's not fair to you."

            "We're not still talking about me and Spike, are we?" Buffy asked cautiously.

            Cordy's eyes widened almost comically, and panic briefly flashed across her features before she clamped down on her emotions and started to protest Buffy's query vehemently.

            "Cordy," the other woman mercifully cut her off before her rambling got out of control.  "Is it Angel?" Buffy asked tentatively, before quickly hurrying to add.  "It's okay if it is.  I mean, he and I…it's never going to work.  We both know that."

            Cordy looked at her suspiciously, "You're not going to kill me if I say yes?"

            "No.  I want him to be happy."  Buffy smiled slightly, before quickly adding, "But not too happy!  And, I even kind of want you to be happy.  So, you might as well be happy together."

            "Thanks," Cordy said, the sincerity in her voice shining through.  "But, I don't know if that's possible anymore."  Seeing Buffy's quizzical look, the seer elaborated.  "I slept with Connor."

            "Who?"

**                                                            ☼    ☼    ☼**

            "Yeah," Cordy explained.  "There's this big, evil law firm whose sole goal in life is, well, Angel's soul.  There's some prophecy about how he'll be this big player in the final apocalypse, and our friendly neighbors at Wolfram & Hart are convinced that if he's evil, he'll bat for their team.  So…"

            "And they're the ones that kidnapped Connor?" Buffy asked, trying to keep the details of the events Cordy had outlined straight in her head.

            "No, they're the ones who brought Darla back.  Holtz is the one who kidnapped him."

            "Right."  Buffy shook her head and felt her lips twist into a wry smile.  "I think you just officially past me in the Most Messed-Up Relationship category.  Congratulations!"

            "Thanks," Cordy said, rolling her eyes, the moment between the two women past, but their relationship strengthen by it.

To be continued in:  "Chapter Twelve: Choices" 

**                                                                    ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼**

A/N:  Hey, gang!  I finally got another chapter up, and hey, only a week and a half late!  I know, I'm appropriately cowering in shame and apology.  What can I say?  Real Life gives Cordelia a run for her money in the Vicious Bitch category sometimes.

Big thanks to everyone who reviewed or e-mailed me last time:  Ello, Garcrahen03, Weapon of Choice, Anne Rose, Leah, E-wok, FanOfFaith, SilverRain, BabEe TiG3r, Zana, Timeends, and, of course, Annie and Winter.  You guys keep me motivated!  


	12. Mirrors

                                                                      Chapter Twelve:  Mirrors

            "This no reflection thing really sucks," Buffy complained as she sat still, waiting for Cordelia to finish her last minute adjustments to the Slayer's currently long, dark, and curly hair.

            "Tell me about it," Cordelia commiserated, before pointing out, "at the same time, it's weird enough knowing I'm Darla right now.  I'm not sure I could handle seeing it."

            "That's what we should do!" Buffy exclaimed, turning her head quickly and ignoring Cordy's grunt of frustration as the Slayer's quick movement caused the seer to pull a large chunk of hair out of place, instead of the small tendril she'd been trying for.  "Take a picture of ourselves and then mail it to us in the future!"

            As she fixed Buffy's hair, Cordy smiled to herself at the possibility.  "Nah," she finally said.  "Still too creepy.  Plus, with all the wacky fun we had with Darla last year, not to mention Connor…"

            "Yeah," the seated woman conceded, thinking also of the vampire waiting for her in Sunnydale.  "A little too weird, I guess."

            A polite rap on their bedroom door interrupted the two women's conversation and both looked back as Richard poked his head in the door.

            "About ready to go?" he asked.

            "Yup," Cordelia replied, adding one final pin to the mass of curls atop Buffy's head before stepping away from the other.  "All done."

**                                                                                   ☼    ☼    ☼**

            "I'm glad you talked us into coming out tonight, Richard," Buffy said as the three sat on a small loveseat far off on one side of the room, surveying the party going on around them.  Conversation and classical music floated around the trio, emphasizing the magical quality of the situation for the two time travelers.  Buffy and Cordelia had agreed on keeping a low profile at the gathering, both to avoid affecting the timeline, and to discourage any of the other partygoers who might meet Darla or Dru in the future from being too friendly.  While it was not the type of gathering either woman would normally seek out, they were enjoying watching the other guests mingle and listening to their conversations.

            Across the room, a small commotion centered around a man who had moved up a step to place himself above the rest of the room, attracted the crowd's, and the loveseat's occupants', attention.

            "Is that William?" Cordy asked, seeing the familiar man standing a step down from the center of the room's attention.  "I didn't know he was coming."

            "Oh dear," Richard said, obviously recognizing the situation.  "He's gotten a hold of one of William's poems."

            "Don't be shy," the man who stood above the rest of the crowd said condescendingly to William before beginning to read from a small piece of paper in front of him, pausing dramatically at the poem's line break.

            "My heart expands, 'tis grown a bulge in it.  Inspired, by your beauty, effulgent."  He paused again before aiming his next comment directly at William.  Although he only spoke one word, it was filled with faux-incredulity, patronization, and a hint of derision, and accompanied by a short laugh.  The volume of his voice was obviously designed to carry to all occupants of the room, and not just the man in front of him.  "Effulgent?"

            The three watched on in sympathy as the crowd laughed, and William snatched back his poem, before following a dark-haired woman who'd hurriedly left the circle ridiculing the young man.  As he walked away, another comment rose above the crowd and reached the onlookers' ears.

            "Have you heard?" a woman asked, her pleasure at sharing gossip thickly apparent in her tone.  "They call him William the Bloody because of his bloody awful poetry."

            Buffy gasped, realizing that Spike's previous moniker came not from his early days as a vampire, but rather from the cruelty that could only be found when peers built themselves up at another's expense.  

            "It suits him," the man who had read William's verse aloud responded, directing his comment as much to the woman as the room at large.  "I'd rather have a railroad spike through my head than listen to that _awful_ stuff."

            Buffy and Cordelia exchanged a look at the harsh comment, each remembering how Spike had come by his more commonly known name and realizing this man's comment could very well have inspired more than the laughter of his friends.

            Buffy started to rise to follow William, but Richard's hand on her arm stopped her.  

            "That's Cecily," he explained, nodding to the woman William was following.  "William's absolutely besotted with her, but she's too vain to allow herself to love him.  Too concerned with petty things like money and what others think.  She doesn't deserve William's love, although he refuses to see it.  She'll break his heart, I'm afraid, but…"

            "But it needs to happen for him to move on," Cordy finished sadly.  She empathized with the position the young man was in, but also recognized the necessity of allowing Cecily the opportunity to make her true colors clear.  William would be hurt for a while, but he was better off not mooning over someone who refused to return his affections.

            "No," Buffy said in disbelief.  "I don't believe it!" 

            Richard and Cordy followed her gaze into the next room where William and Cecily were sitting on a sofa, talking.  While she could clearly see the pair, the young man and woman were far enough away that even Cordy's enhanced vampire hearing couldn't pick up what was being said.  

            Since she couldn't hear it, the seer knew neither could Buffy, prompting the woman to ask, "What?"

            "That conniving, manipulative little bitch!" Buffy swore fiercely.  Her eyes still on the couple, Buffy explained, "That's not Cecily.  Her name's Halfrek.  And she's a vengeance demon."

            "Like Anya?" Cordy asked, confused.

            "One of her old friends, actually," Buffy confirmed, her eyes never leaving William and the demon he was sitting with.  "That explains a lot," she added, thinking of the brief suggestion that Spike and Hallie knew each other at her last, disastrous birthday party.  

            Rising from her seat, she muttered to the others, "I'm going to put a stop to this right now." 

            Before Buffy had gone two steps though, the woman the Slayer had set her sights on rose from the couch and quickly walked away.  Buffy froze in her tracks at the absolute devastation on William's face.  She'd seen that look once before – as she and Spike stood in his newly blown-up crypt.  She'd told him she was using him and that it was killing her.  Her final words to him on that day echoed softly in her head.  _Goodbye, William._

            That bitch Halfrek had broken his heart!

            Richard and Cordy watched in sympathy as William quickly left, his head down to hide the tears forming in his eyes.  Before either of the two could act, Buffy had started moving again and was nearly to the door, following William through it.  She paused on the house's front steps, scanning the street in both directions.  Off to the left, she caught a glimpse of William's curly, sandy-brown hair disappearing into an alley.  

            When she reached the alley's entrance, she could see William about halfway down the passageway, sitting on a bail of hay.  Torn scraps of paper littered the ground around his feet, and his shoulders shook slightly as the man's sorrow and grief escaped in gulping sobs. 

            "William?" Buffy asked softly as she walked slowly towards him.

            His head lifted and she noticed how bright his eyes were from the tears he'd shed as his gaze met hers.  He quickly looked away, ducking his head once more and wiping at his cheeks before replying quietly.  "Please go.  I wish to be alone."

            Ignoring his request, the Slayer sat beside him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug and rocking slightly as he accepted the embrace and cried against her chest.  Buffy felt her own tears finally spill as she held the man, hurting for him and wondering if her Spike had reacted the same way when she'd left him that day.

            "I'm so sorry," she said.

            "For what?" he asked, his voice muffled against her shoulder.  

            "I-" she paused, wanting to apologize for the abuse she'd heaped upon him in the past, especially during the last year, for the pain he was feeling now that he'd regained his soul, for not having been strong enough to not use him.  But this wasn't the same man.  This was William, and while a small part of her warned that she couldn't reveal such future details, a much larger part knew that the apology she needed to make couldn't be made to William.  While he would one day become the Spike she shared such a volatile and complicated history with, William wasn't yet him.  "I'm sorry you got hurt.   I know you really liked Cecily," she finally settled on.

            He pulled back a bit and looked her in the face, shaking his head sadly.  "She's right, though.  I am beneath her."

            "What?" Buffy demanded in horror, more of her own guilt surfacing before firmly saying, "No!  Don't ever believe that!"

            "No, Buffy," William countered sadly, his voice devoid of hope, conveying only a sad understanding of an inescapable truth.  "I haven't enough money or, or social standing."

            "She's a fool," Buffy said.  "They're all fools.  You don't love someone more because they have money.  And you don't need money to be wealthy.  Your wealth lies here," she placed her fingertips over his heart briefly before moving to his left temple, realizing as she spoke that the words were not ones she would have chosen herself.  They were coming from somewhere else, yet they felt…right.  "And here."

            When her fingers graced his brow, Buffy felt a jolt go through her and several memories surfaced at once, filling her with instinctive knowledge.  She froze, staring at him for what seemed like an eternity, but in actuality could not have been more than three or four seconds, as the horrible truth sank in.  When she finally spoke, she remained unmoving, but her voice was small and suffused with a quiet horror.

            "Oh, God."  

**                                                                                   ☼    ☼    ☼**

            Cordy watched Drusilla's retreating back as the Slayer inside the dark-haired beauty followed William out of the house.  She was trying to decide whether to follow too when Richard's voice pulled her back to the couch they were sitting on.  

            "You know him."  While the man's words could have been a question, Cordy had no doubt they were a statement of fact, not inquiry.

            "Know who?" Cordy asked, pretending to be confused by the seemingly sudden change of topic.

            "William.  In the future, you know him."

            The seer froze, denial rising to her lips, but she could see Richard had already worked the truth out for himself.

            "Yes," she responded simply.

            "He can't still be alive," Richard said slowly.  "Not after one hundred and twenty two years.  Is he . . ." the man trailed off, finding forming the words of his suspicion more difficult than he'd expected.  He looked away for a moment before capturing and holding Cordy's gaze determinedly.  "Is he a vampire?"

            Cordy met his gaze unwaveringly, letting her silence speak for her.  Finally, she said.  "You can't tell him.  It'll change too much."

            "He's that significant in the course of the world?" Richard asked bitterly.  "What, does he kill an evil dictator?"

            "Not all demons are evil.  And not all evil demons are evil all the time.  This woman," Cordy pointed to Darla's body.  "This vampire, Darla, was one of the evilest, meanest, most violent vampires.  But in the end, she willingly sacrificed her life to save a child.  And I work with another vampire.  He was very, very evil for a really long time.  And he enjoyed being evil.  He relished in it.  But now, he helps the hopeless.  There's a prophecy that he'll be a major player in the End of Days, a key asset to the side he fights for.   The prophecy's unclear, whether he'll fight for good or evil.  But _I_ know he'll be on our side, fighting the good fight.  I trust him to make the right decisions.  I trust him with my life.  I trust him with his soul."

            "Did you say his soul?" Richard asked incredulously, finding himself moved against his will by the blonde's impassioned words.

            "It's a long story," Cordy said smiling gently.  "As a matter of fact, I just found out he's not the only vampire with a soul . . ." she trailed off as a memory of Wesley explaining the prophesized future for the vampire with a soul surfaced.  Cordelia could almost hear the click of the light bulb over her head turning on as she realized the implications of her memories.

            "I have to go.  I know how to get home."  Turning to Richard, she leaned over and gave the man a quick hug.  "Thank you, for everything.  Remember, if you see either Buffy or me again, it won't be us.  It will be Drusilla or Darla.  Be careful."

            Rising quickly, Cordelia left the party, tapping into Darla's sixth sense, hoping it would help her locate Buffy and, hopefully, William.

**                                                                                   ☼    ☼    ☼**

            She was still staring at William, but Buffy only saw the series of memories which had led her to this unthinkable, yet inescapable conclusion.  He had to die; she had to kill him.

            "Buffy," the familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she found herself gazing into insightful blue eyes.  "Are you alright?"

            "I'm, I'm fine."

            "No, you're not."  William's eyes narrowed slightly as he responded, and he pulled a little farther away from Buffy.  "You've figured out what you have to do to return home."

            "Yes."

            "And it involves me."

            "Yes."

            "You have to kill me.  And make me like you."

            Buffy's eyes grew wide and shock overcame her momentarily at his deduction.  Before she could protest William's assertion, he continued.

            "I lied before," he said.  "About when your friend commandeered my body.  While he was here, I was in his, in the future.  I was blindfolded, and no one spoke to me, but I could still hear them talking.  Most likely they were in the next room, but I could still hear them.  They thought I would be vicious and violent, dangerous.  How could they know what to expect unless they knew whose body they were sending your friend Spike to?"

            "William," Buffy started, wanting to deny the truth, but unable to quite bring herself to do so.

            "The more I thought about it," he cut her off, "the more times I came to the same conclusion.  There's only one way this all makes sense.  They thought they were trading your friend Spike with an earlier version of himself.  And they did, just not the version they thought they'd get.  He's me, or rather, I'm him, right?"

            Buffy simply held his gaze, giving no other response for a long moment.  Finally she nodded.  "Right."

            "But he's your friend, isn't he?" William asked.  "How can that be?  How can you be friends with someone who's…"

            "He's not," Buffy said.  "Not anymore."  She took in a deep breath before continuing.  "He's… he helps.  And he is my friend."

            "Right then," William said decisively.  "Let's do this."

            Buffy just stared at the man before her, tears slowly forming in her eyes.  Finally, when she spoke, her voice was soft, yet firm.  "I can't ask that of you.  It's not fair."

            "You're not asking me," he replied, his face remaining firm, although Buffy detected an increase in the rate of his heartbeat, indicating he was not as confident in his resolve as he appeared.  "I'm offering."

            "You don't know," she said, reaching a hand out to lightly brush his cheek.  "You can't know what you're asking.  Who am I to decide your destiny?"

            "But I'm good, right?" William asked her, his naïve belief in her and the man she described him becoming outshining the uncertainty in his eyes.  "I mean eventually, I help."

            "Yeah," Buffy agreed slowly.  "Eventually.  But before that . . ." she trailed off, looking away from his intense gaze before making up her mind.  There had to be another way.  "Look, William, you have to give your life, your soul, to do this, and it's not fair to ask that of you."

            "Life's not fair, Buffy," he interrupted her, sounding far wiser and older than she'd heard the young man sound in her short acquaintance with him.  "I know that, and so do you.  Richard told me last night about the slayers.  That you fight the forces of darkness.  And that you die young.  Always."

            "Yes," Buffy agreed.

            "If you can do it, so can I.  And," William's voice faltered before he regained control of his emotions.  "And, my life here, it's, it's ordinary at best.  I'll never be anything special or spectacular.  But maybe I can make a difference some day.  Even if I have to sell my soul to do it."

            Sorrow washed over Buffy as she saw all that William could have become had his life not been cut short.  At the same time, she knew those dreams and possibilities were not meant to be realized, not without changing the future.  And that was a risk Buffy knew she couldn't take, no matter how much she wanted to.

            Buffy nodded slowly, a feeling of déjà vu engulfing her as she once again found herself on the verge of killing an innocent soul to save the world she knew.  The decision made, a strange clam washed over the Slayer.  She knew with a certainty she couldn't explain that this was the right path, regardless of how much she wished it weren't.  She would kill – not because she could, but because she had to.  She would take and then give life, create a monster, so that she might one day again meet the man before her.

            "I'm proud of you, William" she whispered.  Then, she heard herself ask him to close his eyes. He complied, and Buffy leaned close, kissing him softly, before pulling back and allowing the bones in Drusilla's face to shift, bringing the demon to the forefront.  William remained sitting, and the calm on his features as he patiently waited, his eyes still obediently closed, was almost Buffy's undoing.  Screwing up her courage, she leaned into the left side of his neck, whispering one final message before sinking her fangs into his neck.

            "I'm so sorry."

To be completed in: "Chapter Thirteen: Coming Home"

**                                                                      ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼  ☼**

A/N:  We're so entering the home stretch here, gang!  Everything should get wrapped up in the next (and last!) chapter; how exciting is that?  Big thanks go to everyone who reviewed and/or e-mailed me about this latest chapter: Rachel, Karen Daltry, BabEe TiG3r, Annie, Timeends, Lora Darcy, Vette, Zana, and Justin.  I must admit, I entertain myself a great deal with my writing.  But, it's still fabulously wonderful to know that I'm not the only one who's entertained.

Also, in the fine tradition that is shameless self promotion, let me mention that I posted a story in the "Angel" section of ff.net a couple of days ago that's an alternate (happier) ending to this week's "Soulless."  And, as an added bonus, it's complete in one part.  If you like this story, I'm betting you'll like it.  Plus, I'm rather proud of it.  It's called "Sweet Peripeteia"; give it a go.


	13. Back Through the Looking Glass

A/N:  Okay, using what we now know, you need to read this story assuming that either Cordy's _not_ a vessel of Evil, or that her little demon spawn isn't yet in control.  In short, this is just plain Cordy.  Although, feel free to blame the demon spawn for her going at it with Connor.  Very few things in life would make me happier than to be able to blame that disturbing image on someone (or something) that's not Cordy.  Uggh!

                                           Chapter Thirteen:  Back Through the Looking Glass

            Cordelia skidded to a stop in the entrance to the alleyway.  Peering down the dimly lit passageway, she could see two people sitting on a bale of hay about halfway down.  Squinting, she could make out William's features, and then recognized the slim back and dark hair of the figure leaning close to him as Drusilla, or rather, Buffy.

            "What is it with these people and alleys?" she wondered aloud, recalling Connor's birth, and Fred's replay of the things Darla had said to Angel before staking herself.

            Looking closer, Cordy saw that the couple was sitting close together, engaged in one of two activities.  Either Buffy was going for a land speed hickey giving record, or she was feeding off of William.  The seer paused, relief filling her.  She didn't know how, but she knew that Buffy had figured it out.  Cordelia's belief was confirmed, as she saw the dark-haired woman pull back from William before biting her own wrist and pressing it against his mouth.  Although clearly nearing unconsciousness, the man made a valiant effort to smile at his killer as she pressed the bloodied wrist to his lips.  Cordelia watched with a strange fascination as William's lips sealed around the bite mark, and he began sucking gently.  

            The edges of her vision dimmed, and Cordelia was filled with relief at the understanding that Buffy's actions had succeeded; the two women were returning to their own time.  As her knees buckled, Cordelia saw Buffy pull her wrist from William as his eyes closed and his lips went slack.  The Slayer leaned down and kissed William's forehead, a lone tear falling from her cheek onto his.  As the spell took her, Buffy felt herself slump across William's now prone body.  

            A passerby who might have chanced to peer down the alley would have seen a strange tableau.  At one end, a beautiful, well-dressed, blonde woman lay as if she'd fainted.  Farther on, a couple also lay unconscious atop a seat made of hay.  The man half lay, half sat, his back to the wall the hay was situated against.  His skin was ashen, and a trickle of blood ran from the puncture wounds on his neck.  Across his lap, another woman lay, her head pillowed on the hay, her face turned to the empty alley.  Her skin glowed with a strange, unearthly power, the corner of her mouth decorated by the ruby red of the man's lifeblood.  A strange silence seemed to envelope the trio.  Outside the small area that had witnessed unspeakable sorrow, pain, and heroism, the sounds of a party dispersing were accompanied by the average sounds of London at night.  In short, while time froze for the three, the world around them continued to turn.

            The blonde was the first to stir.  With a groan, she raised her hand to the back of her head as she sat up, feeling the bump that had formed when she'd fallen.  Her concern over her head was quickly replaced by concern over the fact that she didn't recognize her surroundings.  Quickly rising, the woman scanned the alleyway, her senses extended, searching for danger.  Finding none apparent, she relaxed her stance slightly.

            "Dru?"

            Farther down the alley, the dark-haired woman stirred, lifting herself from across the man's lap and looking at the speaker.

             "What's going on?" Darla continued, seeing that the other woman was indeed her companion.

            Drusilla looked between her grand-sire and the corpse beside her, the taste of blood still fresh in her mouth.  Smiling enigmatically, she turned to Darla.

            "I've found a knight, the wisest and bravest in the land."

            Darla rolled her eyes, the oddity of their predicament forgotten for the moment.  After all, it was hardly the first time she'd woken up in a back alley somewhere.  _Wonderful_, she thought sarcastically, curiosity at whether Drusilla would even remember this childe by the time he rose warring in her mind with relief that Drusilla would now have a playmate to take her attention away from Angelus.

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            In Sunnydale a young woman known to her friends as Buffy, known to the demon world as the Slayer, opened her eyes to find herself in her bedroom, lying on her bed.

            In Los Angeles a similar young woman, known to the Powers That Be as the seer of one of their most promising champions, woke in a different room than the one she'd gone to sleep in.  Quickly she recognized it as one of the spare rooms in the Hyperion hotel, headquarters of Angel Investigations, and home to the company's namesake.

            Each sighed with relief when she realized she was home and once more herself.  Both were immediately mobbed by their respective families.  But neither noticed the vampire in her life remain present only long enough to ensure that she was once again home before silently slipping away.

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            "So, I've been thinking," Cordelia announced as she walked out the Hyperion's doors and came to stand beside Wesley in the early evening twilight.

            The man's gaze remained fixed on a position visible only to him, and Cordy's patience soon wore thin at his continued silence.

            "I said, I've been thinking," she repeated.

            While his gaze refused to relinquish its hold on the night beyond the pair, Wesley's voice was teasing as he asked, "Is there really a chance that you won't tell me if I don't ask what about?"

            "Nope," Cordy responded, laughing lightly, finding she missed the easy camaraderie she had shared with the Englishman before his exile following the terrible events of the previous Spring. 

            "Well then," he replied, his head finally turning to look at her.  "What have you been thinking about?"

            "If our getting home hinged on Spike being turned," Cordy began slowly, the right words to express her concerns eluding her as she finally gave voice to her concerns, "then he has the potential to be a major player.  Otherwise, we wouldn't have been sent back to screw up the past."

            "Why does that worry you?" Wesley asked.  "It's hardly surprising that Spike has the potential to become a major player, given his lineage and his connections to the Slayer."

            "Hmmph," Cordy snorted in amusement at Wesley's words, thinking of Buffy's revelations concerning just how well connected Spike was to her.  Realizing she shouldn't be the one to reveal _that_ secret to the LA gang, she quickly spoke again.  "What does it mean for Angel?"

            "Angel?" Wes asked in confused surprise.  "Why should it affect Angel?"

            "The prophecy," Cordy explained.  "The shanshu."

            "The shanshu prophecy mentions a vampire with a soul," Wesley reminded her.  "It's not about Spike."

            It was then that Cordelia realized she wouldn't be able to keep all of the Sunnydale gossip under wraps.  Going for casual, she replied, "Yeah.  About that."

            "Are you saying Spike has a soul?" 

            "Yes," she replied simply.  "I don't know all the details, but…"

            "Oh my," Wesley replied, the possibilities that another souled vampire in the world opened up flashing through his mind.  Focusing on his conversation with Cordelia, though, he quickly understood her concerns.  "And you're worried that the shanshu might be not be for Angel."

            "What if it's not?" she said, the worry for her friend naked upon her face.

            "It doesn't matter," a new voice joined the conversation, as the vampire stepped out of the shadows.  

            "Angel," Cordy said, "I didn't want to tell you until I'd talked to Wesley.  Maybe there's something I don't remember about the prophecy, or maybe the translation is more specific, or–"

            "I'm afraid I can't say for sure if there was anything more specific to help us distinguish between Angel and Spike in the prophecy," Wesley said, cutting her off.

            "It doesn't matter," Angel repeated.  "Sure, turning human someday would be nice, but that's not what the mission's about.  It's about helping people."

            "Good," Cordy replied.  "After all, wouldn't want you thinking it wasn't."

            "Cordy," Angel began, smiling slightly at his seer's quick switch from concern over his purpose in life to her infamous imperial attitude.  Then, he turned serious.  "When you were in the past, I didn't …I … did I…"

            "No. You didn't hurt me.  Or Buffy," Cordy said, throwing a conspiratorial wink at Wesley as she answered.  "As a matter of fact, it was kind of fun being Darla."

            Off Angel's surprised look, she continued, "I've never had so much fun bossing you around." 

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            Spike continued to stare sightlessly into the night of the Summers' back yard, sitting on the steps, his forearms resting on his knees.  He kept his gaze fixed, refusing to look when he heard to back door open, and soft footsteps he knew to be Buffy's approached him.  The Slayer sat down next to him, following his lead, and squinted into the darkness.

            Both remained silent for a long moment while Buffy ran a variety of possible opening lines in her mind. __

_            How's the holding down the steps coming?_

_            So, William was a real badass, don't you think?_

_            Been to England lately?  Yeah?  Me too._

Finding nothing that seemed appropriate, the petite woman settled on an old favorite.

            "Hey," she said, gently swinging her right knee over to nudge his left, her eyes still facing forward.

            Although he remained facing the darkness beyond the house, Spike did allow his eyes to slide over and look at the young woman at his side, his left eyebrow cocking slightly in inquiry of the unusually normal quality their current situation implied.

            Buffy causally leaned back and propped her elbows up on the step behind her, leaving her body open, her posture a mirror inversion of the vampire's closed-off pose.

            When Spike remained silent, she tried another track.  

            "Do you remember?"

            He was silent for so long after she asked, Buffy began to grow frustrated, certain he was going to ignore the question.  Finally, he spoke.

            "It's weird.  I remember both, kind of."  Turning to make eye contact with her for the first time he said, "I remember you."

            "And from before?  With Dru?"

            "It's like a story someone told me or that I read.  It's all hazy."  His gaze slipped away from hers again as he explained.  "The narrative is there, but the stuff that makes memories, the smells, and sounds, and feelings, they're fuzzy.  Like a dream."

            "Oh."  Buffy didn't know how to respond.  She felt like she ought to apologize, like she'd taken something precious from him.  But at the same time, her sarcastic inner voice – the one she gave control of her mouth to all too often – demanded _How can the memories of being turned by Dru be better?_  Another part of her mind, one that was brutally honest and she'd gotten very good at shutting out last year countered with one word.  _Jealous?_

            "No great loss," Spike replied with a shrug, pulling Buffy out of her inner debate.

            "So, is it like your memories just changed, or they were always there?"

            "I think you were always there."

            "Then why…"

            "Why'd I still end up here?"

            Buffy's nod confirmed the question she'd been unable to form completely.  The laws of time travel, at least according to every movie and TV show she'd ever seen said that even a small change could lead to a radically different future.  While Buffy was thankful to have woken up in a familiar reality, she was concerned about how that could be possible.

            Spike smiled slightly, his lips twisting not in amusement, but self-deprecation.  "You know me, Slayer.  Stubborn as a bloody mule.  Decided I wasn't going to be good just because some time traveling bird said I was supposed to.  Set out to cut a swath of destruction a mile wide and leave you in the dust.  Put you out of my mind.  By the time I remembered and realized who you were, it was too late."  He turned to face her again, his eyes full of guilt and self-recrimination.  "I was already making promises I couldn't keep."

            Meeting his gaze, Buffy sat up straight and said, "I'm proud of you."

            The comment was unexpected, and quite frankly, one of the last things Spike ever thought he'd hear come out of her mouth.

            "You're proud of him."  He said, accusation in his narrowed eyes. "Not me."

            Buffy's first instinct was to vehemently deny the charge, although the words froze just before leaving her lips as she wondered why it was so important to her that he understand this point.  Taking a deep breath she considered her options before responding.

            "When I first met William," she confessed, now leaning forward to match Spike's position on the steps, "I thought it was you.  Of course, it wasn't.  But as I got to know him, I realized I already did."

            Spike's eyes once again focused on something unseen in front of him as he snorted in response to her assertion.

            "Course," Buffy allowed, "the version I know's a little more cynical, a little more world weary.  If there's one thing I missed, it was your tongue."

            A blush colored her cheeks as the innuendo behind her words caught up to Buffy.  Instead of the smart remark or leer she expected from him, Spike's only visible reaction was a slight curve at the corners of his mouth.  

            "What I mean is your sarcasm," she clarified quickly.  When Spike only nodded to show he understood, Buffy found herself oddly disappointed at his lack of reaction.   

             She  paused before continuing with her confession.  "I thought about it, you know.  That maybe the reason I was sent back was to keep you alive, to let William live out his life.  He'd never have to know the kind of evil this world has to offer, never have to know the pain of falling for a girl who…" here her voice trailed off in shame.  Steeling her resolve, Buffy forced herself to continue, "who treated him like dirt."

            "You did what you had to do," he said, his tone betraying nothing of what he felt at her admission.  "Couldn't mess up the timeline.  Be just like letting the world end."

            "No," she said.  "I know all the reasons why you had to be turned.  All the things that would change.  All the risks.  But in the end?  Those aren't the reasons why I let myself be persuaded by you.  I was selfish.  I didn't want William to live if it meant I wouldn't know you."

            This time when Spike turned to meet her gaze, his eyes reflected the hope she'd seen in them so many times before.

            "I don't know what it means," she said.  "But I do know that I recognized you in William, not the other way around.  And not just now.  Those parts were there last year, and the year before, and probably all the years before that.  William was a good man.  But so are you."

            Comfortable silence enveloped the two, as Spike absorbed Buffy's words before she added, "And, I'm proud of you."

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A/N:  Whoo-doggies!  It's done!  I am, of course, now experiencing that sense of bittersweet accomplishment.  While I'm sad to see this end, I'm also kind of glad, b/c I was feeling massively guilty at having yet another piece hanging around unfinished.  I'm sure there must be a special level of hell reserved for authors who leave you hanging.  My sincerest apologies.

            For those that have asked, yes, I do plan to finish "Interview with a Scourge," but, sadly, no, it won't be soon – a couple of months at least.  But hey, if I'm real lucky, I'll get in finished before it hits the one year mark.

            Thanks to all my loyal readers who reviewed since I last posted:  Jedi Buttercup, Samson, Winter, Karen Daltry, Lelly (times 2!), Eirian, Annie, Ivy, and Anne Rose (also times 2!).  

And special thanks go to all those who took the time to review during this story's development.  When I try to express just how much your support and feedback means to me, words fail me.  Thank you!


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